if i try hard enough
by Pickled Rellish
Summary: Let's rewind here. Before Tony Stark becomes Iron Man, before he's the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, before his parents die, before he graduates MIT, Tony Stark is just a boy with a butler who's not just a butler. /"If he's not a butler, what is he then?" Tony's reply was quiet, but came without thought. "He's everything."/


This site has totally messed with the formatting and I'm too lazy to go through and correct it because, hello, the size of this thing? If you want to read it in all its pretty glory, head on over AO3 - it's over there, same name.

 **Warnings:** Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Tony Stark-centric Tony Stark Needs a Hug Tony Stark Has Issues Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Awesome Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Child Abuse Child Neglect Emotional/Psychological Abuse Homophobic Language Kid Fic Growing Up Drug Use Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism Alcoholic Tony Stark Drug Withdrawal Tony Stark Feels Hurt Tony Stark it's all about Tony and Jarvis/JARVIS i'm not even sorry Sassy Jarvis/JARVIS Depression Underage Drinking Dum-E - Freeform u - Freeform Butterfingers - Freeform Bot Feels Pre-Iron Man 1 Character Death Swearing like a lot of swearing Tony has a potty mouth Jarvis is more than just a butler

A/N: Okay, so, I have no idea how this happened. This started off with wanting more Tony Stark Kid Fic and somehow it gave birth to this? I'm sorry. Like, real sorry. I don't even know. This is being gifted to Coconutice22 because for the last month, I've done nothing but bother her for her opinions (and I'm utterly shameless when it comes to wanting a cheerleader, I'm not even gunna deny it).

 **if i try hard enough  
By Pickled Rellish**

Tony as a child had been infuriating, exhausting, cheeky and, if the family butler were to be believed, an absolute marvel. He was all skinny legs, knobbly knees and a mop of dark hair careening around the halls on homemade, self-propelling roller skates (until they were confiscated, much to his displeasure).

As a baby, he'd held Maria's attention for all of five minutes before she was handing him over to Jarvis with a wince, brows pulled tight and a hand flapping softly at him. "Just for the afternoon, Jarvis," she'd sigh, "until this headache has gone." He exchanged her son for a Martini glass and left her to it.

Jarvis was there when he woke in the middle of the night - "Jesus Christ, Jarvis, I'm on the phone to fucking Japan. Get him out the kitchen; I can hear him down in the workshop. Jesus." - for late night bottle feeds, Tony's large brown eyes gazing up at him as he suckled, cheeks damp and lashes clumped. He was there when he lifted his head up on his own, he was there to respond with his own smile when he laughed and giggled, there when he rolled over and when he started to crawl (and subsequently, the one who ensured any space that Tony occupied was baby proofed, because that was one curious little boy).

He felt robbed that he wasn't there when Tony took his first step. Maria handed Tony over to Jarvis, holding him at arms length awkwardly, mouth curled. "His diaper needs changing. Oh," she added, once Jarvis gathered him in his arms, and Tony cuddled closer. "He isn't to have any dessert. He absolutely refused to keep still for the photographer, running all over the place."

"Running, Ma'am?"

"Yes. I do wish you'd have told us he could walk. I would have made sure to have had something on hand to calm him down."

He inclined his head. "My apologies." Waiting until Maria had rounded the corner, he tickled Tony's tummy. "Running before you can walk? Let us hope this isn't a sign of things to come, Master Tony. Come on," he spoke to the toddler with such fondness, hitching him up his hip as they made their way to Jarvis' personal rooms. "I have some chocolate - the real kind - and I know the perfect little genius to share it with, if you can keep a secret."

Tony squealed, hugging him tighter and pressing a sloppy kiss to Jarvis' cheek.

While Tony advanced much quicker than his peers in all those important milestones of life, he simply refused to speak until he was three and a half and came out with a full sentence. Before then, Jarvis had been worried, ensuring Tony was booked in for hearing appointments, but he hadn't pushed him. For all he couldn't talk, he could still get his demands across perfectly well and Jarvis knew Tony had him wrapped around his little finger, but he hardly cared. Howard called him retarded and Maria simply patted him on the head as though he was a dog. They didn't see the burgeoning little genius in their laps who took apart television sets and alarm clocks and made them better.

They mistook his curiosity for misbehaviour.

"Oh for God's sake-Jarvis! Jarvis! I thought I'd told you to keep him out of my damn workshop." Howard had hold of his son by his arm, his grip strong, and he shook Tony. "I don't have time for your nonsense, Tony. I'm busy. Stay the fuck out of here. Is that penetrating through your thick skull? Get him out of here," he pushed Tony over to Jarvis, who put an arm around Tony's shoulders and back when he latched onto his legs. "And get him a haircut. He's starting to look like a damn queer."

Jarvis felt Tony flinch.

He waited until they were alone in a bathroom, Tony sitting on the countertop, legs swinging and eyes red. "Why where you down there, Master Tony?" Jarvis sighed, running a damp cloth across heated cheeks, cleaning away some of the workshop grime from his face. "You know your father is very busy and that it's dangerous down there. He just doesn't want you to hurt yourself."

"I just wanted t'help," Tony muttered, cheeks still rounded with youth and voice old. "That's all, Jarvis. I like making things."

It didn't take long for Jarvis to convince Howard to throw his scraps Tony's way, to play with in his bedroom (supervised, of course, especially after Tony turned those big brown eyes on him and begged for a soldering tool and actually got one) and all it took was for Jarvis to say Tony would stay out of his way if he had his own things to work on. "Just make sure he does."

Three months after his fourth birthday, Tony was in glossy magazine, big bold letters proclaiming 'LIKE FATHER LIKE SON; STARK JR A GENIUS IN THE MAKING' with a picture of a rather wide eyed looking Tony and Howard with a paparazzi smile firmly in place next to the circuit board Tony had built. No where in that article did it detail Howard scoffing at his son when he saw what he'd been building, nor did it mention the multiple times he'd called him a little homo for crying after accidently scolding his fingers. Although, to be fair, neither did it detail how Jarvis would kiss his sores better before wrapping band-aids around tiny fingers and that it was Jarvis who praised his engineering, even when it wouldn't work properly in the beginning.

With the acknowledgment of Tony's smarts, his toys went to the trash. "You can help your father in the workshop, Tony," Maria said, bland against her son's tears as he clutched onto his Captain America shield. She pried it out of hands. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? Why do you have to be so difficult? Jarvis? Howard wants all of this," she made a vague gesture to the room as a whole, pressing her stolen shied into Jarvis' hands, "gone. I need a drink." She rested her hand briefly on top of her son's head and Tony clutched at her hand, begging, before she pulled it away. "I wish you weren't such a handful, Tony."

Jarvis knelt down once she was gone, opening his arms wide, and Tony fell into them, sobbing. He ran a hand down his back. "Don't cry, Master Tony. They just want what's best for you," he soothed, closing his eyes when Tony shook his head. "Yes, they do. You're such a clever little boy, the smartest I've ever seen, and they just want to nurture that. It won't be too terrible," he added, holding him out at arm's length and brushing his tears away. "Your mother is right; you're allowed down to the workshop now; you've got your own work area. Just for you. You'll be making so many new and wonderful things, that you won't even have time to play with all these old toys. Perhaps you'll be able to fix those roller skates so they don't throw you into the nearest wall, hm?" His eyes crinkled as finally, Tony smiled. He dipped his tone low, conspiring. "I also know the perfect hiding place for this," he tapped a finger against the brightly coloured shield, smiling when Tony's eyes lit up, "and for your Captain action figure. Go take them to my room while I clear the rest away."

A lot of things happened to Tony as he crested his sixth year. There was another magazine print 'CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK; Six Year Old TONY STARK Builds First V8' with Tony sitting on a bike of Howard's that he's never been allowed to look at, let alone sit on, with the man himself next to him, looking for all the world like the American Dream. He then gets told he's going to boarding school two weeks after Howard strikes him, although Howard always claimed that the timing was mere coincidence.

"You stupid little pri-how many times have I told you? For crying out loud, Tony. Stop fucking around with my things."

"No, but dad, look. See? It's helpful. It holds your glass, so it doesn't get in the way."

"The only thing getting in my way right now is you. When're you going to grow out of this robot bullshit and start making things that are actually fucking helpful?"

"Robots are helpful!" He brought his little machine closer to his chest, the flat edge of its claws digging into his shirt. "He's really helpful."

"This?" Howard sneered, snatching the thing out of Tony's hands and shoving it in his face. "Is nothing more than scrap bits of metal that aren't even melded together properly. Your lines are clumsy and this thing is worthless."

Before Tony could stop him, Howard launched it across the room and grabbed hold of his son when he cried out and made to run over to it, shaking him. "Let me go! Get off, dad, get off me! I hate you, I hate you. Let me go, let me go, Jarvis! JARVIS!" Tony twisted in his dad's hold, screaming, trying to kick at him, bite him. "Let go of me, I fucking hate you!"

The crack was loud to Jarvis' ears, but the utter silence that followed it was deafening.

Tony was limp in Howard's grip, eyes impossibly wide as he looked up to his dad, and time held suspended until he was ripping out of his hold and running over to Jarvis, wrapping impossibly thin arms around his waist.

"Get that little shit out of my sight." Howard's chest was heaving, a bit of spittle quivering on his lip. "Get him out!"

Hand pressed to Tony's back, he led him out of the workshop and although Tony was much too old for it now, he scooped him up as soon as the door shut behind them. They didn't speak until Tony was in a bath, Jarvis slowly massaging shampoo into hair that was currently made up of far too much engine grease.

"I just wanted to help, Jarvis," Tony whispered at his knees, poking at the bubbles that surrounded them before pushing his legs out flat, the tips of his toes visible as they peaked through the water. His cheek was still blood red and his lip was split. "He knocked his glass off the desk last week and then he knocked it all over his work and he's always doing that, so I just thought maybe I could help? It's only little, just to hold a glass, he lets go when you want it. He just keeps it safe until then."

"I didn't see it, but I'm sure it was marvellous." Jarvis had been in the kitchen and had only come down the stairs when Tony started to scream from him. "You shouldn't swear."

"You always say you shouldn't grab or snatch things," Tony countered easily, turning his head to look up at him. "Dad wouldn't let go. I just wanted to check that my robot was okay."

"You shouldn't say that you hate your dad, Master Tony," Jarvis said softly, tilting his head back to wash out the shampoo. "You love him."

"I love him," Tony repeated by rote, sighing and sounding far older and much sadder than a child of six should ever sound, "but I don't like him."

Jarvis found he had no answer to that and the rest of his bath was spent in silence.

The day Tony was due to be packed into a car and off to school, he cried, fingers tangled in his Maria's dress, shaking his head and refusing to let go. "Oh for God's sake," Howard muttered, putting his drink off to one side so he could wrench his son off Maria, pushing him into Jarvis' arms. "You'll come home at weekends, Jesus Christ, Tony. Grow up. Do you think Captain America would stand there bawling just because he was going to school? He fought in the war, Tony, and you would never catch him crying. Stark men are made of iron, how many times do you need to be told this?"

"I'm sorry," Tony sobbed, heartbroken, lunging forwards to try and get out of Jarvis' hold on him. "I promise I'll never ever cry again or swear or be bad. Please don't send me away. I'm sorry, dad. I'm really, really sorry."

"Just take him to the car." Howard dismissed them, grabbing his glass before walking away.

Maria came over to cup Tony's cheek in her hand, glancing down to her wrist as Tony clung to her, his face tilting into her hold. "Do try to be good, Tony. I know you find it difficult." Jarvis had to help to get Tony off her.

Outside, Jarvis fastened Tony into the car, offering him his handkerchief to wipe at his face. "Think of all the things you'll learn." He mopped up his face. "When you get home on Friday, I expect you to tell me all about it, yes?" Tony nodded furiously and Jarvis smiled, tucking his now slightly damp handkerchief into Tony's shirt pocket, patting it with a wink.

"I don't want to go," he hiccupped. "I'll miss you."

"I will be right here waiting for you, Master Tony."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Jarvis went to stand, but paused with a slight, "ah," before he was ducking down back into the car, hand fishing in his pocket to pull out Tony's beloved Captain America toy. "I believe this belongs to you." Tony clutched the figure to his chest, giving Jarvis a rather tremendous smile.

At some point from Jarvis shutting the car door and the car pulling out of the drive, Tony had undone his seatbelt and had pushed his face against the back window, one hand pressed against the glass, fingers slightly curled as Jarvis waved him off long after the car was out of sight and his young Master could no longer see him.

Deaɿ Jaɿvis

I hate it heɿe. Can you please please please ask dad if I can come home and go to a ɿeal school? I promise ill be good foɿeveɿ. I cant wait until the weekend so I can come home. Eveɿyone is stupid. I did my r backwards once by mistake and Miss McQuillian got ɿeally mad so now i do it like this all the time to annoy heɿ.

I miss you.

Love  
Tony Staɿk

Dear Jarviƨ

I keep ƨwitching which letter I do backwardƨ and i got ƨent to the Headmasterƨ Office becauƨe my teacher is ƨtupid and it ƨerves her right for reading my letterƨ to you. Itƨ nearly Friday and I cant wait to tell you all about the erector ƨets that Im allowed to perryment with.

I ƨtill miƨƨ you.

Love  
Tony Ƨtark

Every week, Tony would send him two letters; he'd receive them on a Tuesday and Thursday. Jarvis saw Tony's familiar scrawl on envelopes for Howard and Maria but he never saw any outgoing mail but his own in reply.

Dear Jarvis

I have to stop messing with my letters now coz Im being moved to second grade. They told me dad said it was okay. Can you ask dad to please not move me? Ive made some friends and if im in a different class they wont be my friends no more and hes not replying to any of my letters like you do. I know hes very busy but if could pretty please ask for me I promise to not break anything when I get home again by accident.

Can we make cakes again when I come home please?

Love  
Tony Stark

Dear Jarvis

Second grade is way worser than kindergarten. I dont have any friends and everyone is really tall and they all make fun of me. I have a different roommate now and he hates me and I know Im not allowed to say I hate people but I really really dont like him ok? Did you ask dad to keep me in kindergarten coz I dont think he listened can you ask him again? I promise to be good.

Love  
Tony Stark

"JARVIS!" Tony squealed, jumping out of the car before it had come to a complete halt, running across the gravel and straight into Jarvis' open arms. "I passed Second Grade!"

"Of course you did, did you think you wouldn't?" Jarvis lifted him up into the air and didn't miss how Tony looked up to the house behind them. "Your parents aren't home. They'll be back tomorrow."

Jarvis didn't miss the brief flash of hurt before Tony was giving him a smile that was as plastic as his Captain America shield. "Does that mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

"Of course, Sir." Jarvis poked Tony's nose when he crinkled it. "I heard you're going to be skipping a grade again. Are you excited?"

"Two grades," Tony groused, looking far from pleased.

"Come now, Master Tony. Won't it be nice to be challenged? It might make a pleasant change to read a letter from you that isn't bemoaning your peers' intelligence… or lack thereof."

At that, Tony did smile shyly before he was sighing. "But I just made friends, Jarvis. They won't be in any of my classes."

"Then you shall make new friends." Tony looked far from reassured and when he tried to squirm closer for a hug, Jarvis settled him on his hip as though he was a toddler still. "I am getting far too old for this. When you're older, I expect you to repay the favour."

Tony wrapped his arms around Jarvis' neck. "You're not old, Jarvis. You're only a little bald."

Laughing, Jarvis shook his head, taking them both back inside the house, glad to see the media smile had been replaced for Tony's cheeky grin.

"Jarvis?" Tony asked that night, surrounded by pillows, covers pulled up his chin, his eyes wide and dark. "Do you have a Mrs Jarvis?"

"I did." Jarvis smoothed the covers down, taking a seat on the chair he would pull up to the side of Tony's bed for their bedtime stories. "A long time ago."

"Is it too sad to talk about?" Tony clutched at his Captain America doll. "You look sad."

Jarvis' smile is soft. "I miss her very much, Master Tony."

"What was her name?"

"Anna."

"How did she die?" Tony's eyes are still wide and he breathes his question, hesitates a little, but curiosity won in the end.

"During childbirth."

Jarvis watches as Tony bites down on his bottom lip before sitting up and wrapping one small hand around Jarvis'. "I'm sorry, Jarvis. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"It's quite alright, Master Tony."

"I bet she was nice," Tony says, keeping hold of Jarvis' hand as he snuggled back down into his bed. "Bad things always happen to nice people, dad says."

"Say whatever it is that you're thinking," Jarvis prompts and he can't help but to smile when Tony looks up at him guiltily. "Before you combust, if you please."

"It's just, you would've, would've been a really good dad, Jarvis. S'all."

"Thank you, Master Tony," Jarvis replies after a moment, squeezing Tony's hand before letting go. "Now, I believe we have time for a chapter before it's lights out. Budding geniuses need their sleep."

Tony's smile is shy and he hunkers down in his bed, curled up on his side, facing Jarvis, who opens the book and begins to read.

When Tony was eight, he nearly blew up the school during his Sixth Grade Science Fair; this did not make the papers and nor did his subsequence three day suspension. Howard paid a lot of money to make sure that was the case. He paid just as much to have that black mark removed from Tony's record.

"You nearly blew up the fucking school, Tony. The school that I pay too much damn money sending you to. Are you actually retarded? That's a serious question," Howard was towering over Tony, both his hands clenched around Tony's arms, keeping them pressed against his side, even when he shook Tony hard enough that his teeth clicked. "Are you retarded? What made you think," he spat the word, one hand letting go briefly to push Tony's head up and back against the wall, forcing Tony to look at him. "That cobbling together a fucking volcano with stolen tech from my workshop was a good idea?"

"I-I-I don't, d-don't know."

"Sir."

Jarvis was ignored. "Y-y-you d-d-don't know," Howard mocked with a sneer, breath rancid from the smell of scotch. "You don't know fucking much, do you?" Tony didn't answer and Howard slammed him hard against the wall. "You think I don't know that you've still got that Captain America doll, you little homo?" His lip curled when Tony froze, his words turning nasty. "I had hoped letting you keep it would remind you to strive to be better, to do better, to be like him, but no. America's greatest hero is rotting away in the Arctic somewhere and I've been stuck with you, for all my sins."

"I-I-I'm sorry," Tony hiccupped, his eyes huge and wet, his voice hitching. "I'm s-s-sorry, dad. I'm sorry. I'm real-really, really sorry, d-dad. Jar-Jarvis, tell dad I'm s-sorry," Tony implored when Howard ignored him, the only sign that he'd been listening was the tightening of his grip on Tony's arms.

"Sir-"

"-Leave."

Tony's eyes begged him to do anything but. "Sir, I believe the Young Master is sorry." Tony nodded furiously, his chest heaving underneath his shirt.

"I said to leave, Jarvis."

Jarvis' hands were clasped behind his back and he shifted his grip. "May I remind you, Sir, that he is due back at school Sunday evening for classes on Monday. People tend to talk."

Silence followed that statement for almost a full minute before Howard shook Tony one last time. "You steal from me again, you little shit, and I'll break your fingers. Are you listening to me?"

"Y-y-yes! I won't, I won't ever again. I pr-promise."

Howard pushed him against the wall before letting go of him. "Go to your room and don't let me see you before you go back to school." The sound of Tony running away was loud in the hall. "If you ever show me up in front of my son again, you know where the door is."

"And a phone, Sir."

Howard was quick to turn at that, an ugly expression on his face. "Was that a threat, Jarvis?"

"Merely a statement of fact, Sir."

Howard said nothing to him and after a long moment, he turned and left. Jarvis made his way to Tony's room and as soon as he closed the door behind him, a Tony sized blur knocked into him, grabbed hold and absolutely refused to let go.

"I just, I just wanted to make, make it better, Jarvis," Tony sobbed into his chest. "I just wanted, wanted to make dad proud but I got the math wrong and messed everything up! I didn't mean to nearly, nearly b-blow the school up. I swear I didn't. Do you buh-believe me? I swear."

"Of course I believe you. It was just a mistake." Tony all but collapsed into his arms at those words and Jarvis ran his hand up and down his back. "It was just a mistake, hush now, Master Tony. Your father was as angry as he was because you could have hurt yourself."

"He was so, so angry," Tony's words caught themselves on a shaky inhale. "He scared me."

"You are safe." Jarvis held him a little tighter and yet Tony still tried to burrow closer. "I've got you."

Tony got to the end of Seventh Grade before skipping another grade, going straight into Ninth when the holiday's ended, all without incident. "This is the last time they're letting me skip a grade," Tony chirped happily, when he came home for Thanksgiving. "No matter how far ahead I get. But I am allowed to take AP classes as soon as school starts again; they said I can take two each year!"

"That's nice, Tony," Maria answered distractedly. "Jarvis, can you hand me my earrings-no, no, not those-yes, them, thank you."

"Do we have to go, mom?" Tony asked, tugging at his suit jacket.

"Stop fidgeting. Could you at least try to be well behaved tonight, Tony. We haven't even left the house yet."

"Sorry."

Maria sighed, fixing her earrings into place, hair perfectly coifed before standing and slipping gloves onto her hands. "Apologies don't mean anything when you do nothing to change the very behavior you're repeatedly apologizing for." She checked herself one last time in the mirror. "Jarvis, have the car sent around. Howard will meet us there."

"Yes Ma'am."

Tony hung back as his mother left the room, fidgeting. "Jarvis, why doesn't my mom like me?"

"Your mother loves you very much."

"Maybe," Tony said, with quite a lot of frustration. "But I asked why doesn't she like me."

"Your mother will be waiting." Jarvis gestured with his hand for Tony to leave the room. "It's time to go."

"If you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all, huh?" Tony tugged on his sleeves, giving Jarvis quite the look before he was stomping out of the room as he spoke. "I hate these stupid galas. When I'm older, I'm never gunna go to them."

"Unfortunately, Young Sir, that is many years off yet," was Jarvis' reply, lips quirking at Tony as he left the room, indignant.

Tony was twelve, a year from graduating currently with six AP classes under his belt and his final year around the corner, when he designed his first weapon. "Obie said he'd show it to dad," he told Jarvis, chewing on the end of a pencil. "Said he'd take it more seriously coming from him than me. Do you think he'll like it?" The bags under his eyes were thick and Jarvis frowned at him slightly.

"I'm afraid weapons are, regrettably, not one my expertise, however," he added, when Tony seemed to deflate slightly. "I have no doubt that whatever you have designed is exceptional."

Tony grinned at him. "You're the best, Jarv," a pointed look from Jarvis, "…is. Jarvis. You didn't let me finish!"

Two days after that conversation, Howard came into the kitchen, drink in hand, whilst Jarvis was preparing Tony some hot chocolate as a bedtime treat and Tony's babble about the assistant robot he wanted to build cut off abruptly.

"Did you design this?" Howard dropped the rolled up blueprints onto the kitchen counter.

Tony looked across to Jarvis, tongue running over his bottom lip, before looking back up to his dad. He stopped swinging his legs. "Yeah-er, yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, dad."

Howard regarded him for a long moment. "With some rework, it might actually be passable." Tony's back straightened where he sat. "Here." He put his glass on the counter and used one finger against the rim to push it across to him. "To your first patent."

Tony glanced at Jarvis again before, slowly, wrapping two hands around the tumbler. There were more than a couple of fingers worth in it. "All of it?"

"That scotch is older than you; yes, all of it. You're celebrating."

"Oh," Tony replied before swallowing a mouthful, face twisting at the taste and then he was coughing, eyes watering. Under Howard's gaze, he was quick to get himself under control and gulp the rest of it down. He wiped his mouth on his shirt arm, looking up for approval.

Howard picked the glass up and then the half unfurled blueprints. "You savour good scotch, Tony. You're not at a frat party." He didn't stay to hear Tony's coughed apology.

"Jarvis?" Tony blinked, his grip knuckle white on the counter top. "The room is dancing."

Jarvis came around with a pint of water a few moments later, placing it in front of him. "Drink."

" 's what dad feels like when he drinks?" The stool screeched against the floor when Tony leant forwards for his water, but luckily he didn't fall. He just laughed and steadied himself. "This is brilliant." He sounded awed.

"No. Look at me." Javis pushed two fingers under Tony's chin and forced him to look up at him. "The first thing in the human personality that dissolves in alcohol is dignity. Do you understand?" Tony blinked at him blearily in reply and Jarvis sighed. "Drink your water and then it's bed for you."

Tony spent the next day in bed with a bowl besides him; Jarvis brought crackers and water. Howard made an appearance around midday, snorted at the sorry sight Tony made and left without a word.

Tony hit Twelfth Grade, took up two more AP classes, as a bright thirteen year old who wasn't quite as open to the world as he had been and who was maybe too smart for his own good. Ever since Tony had given Obadiah that first blueprint, he started to show up around the house more at weekends when Tony was home from school, all friendly smiles. By the end of the year, Tony graduated Valedictorian, top of his class, and held fourteen different patents against his name.

During the Summer Holidays, Tony fell ill and as excited as he was about placing at MIT, he simply didn't have the energy to show it. He spent a week in bed with a slight fever, curled around a hot water bottle, face crumpled in pain every time he heaved. Jarvis was there, encouraging him to eat and drink, soothing a damp cloth across his brow and spending evenings reading to him as though he was a young boy once more.

Maria was in France. Howard had gone to the Arctic. Neither of them returned Jarvis' increasingly worried calls and messages.

Jarvis called an ambulance when Tony collapsed going to the bathroom.

Tony spent two days in hospital recovering from his ruptured appendix and Jarvis didn't once leave and always made sure Tony had strawberry jell-o (any other flavor simply wasn't acceptable). Tony didn't once ask after his absent parents.

He hiked up his shirt as they sat in the back of a town car, heading back home, pale and thin. "Do you think it'll scar, Jarvis?" He used his other hand to poke at the gauze covering a rather impressive stitch and winced.

"I'd imagine so."

"Cool," Tony breathed, dropping his shirt back down. "I can't believe that they wouldn't let me keep it. It's mine."

Jarvis couldn't help but to chuckle. "And what would you have done with it, Master Tony? You're far more a mechanic than a biologist."

"I dunno," Tony shrugged and for the first time, Jarvis could see the man he was coming into underneath the boy he'd raised; it was there, in the line of his jaw and through the sharpness of his cheekbones. "Poked at it? It used to be inside me. I think that justifies me wanting to mess around with it."

"You barely follow workshop safety protocols, so forgive me, Sir, if I can't imagine you following any appropriate safety measures when it comes to handling bio-hazardous waste."

"Bio-hazardous waste?" Tony squeaked, sounding appalled, turning from looking out of the window and to Jarvis. "I'll beg your pardon, but that's my appendix you're talking about there. Show some respect."

The smile he was successfully hiding came out in his words regardless. "Of course, Sir. My apologies."

"That's more like it," Tony muttered, leaning over to bump Jarvis with his shoulder. Tony kept his shoulder pressed against Jarvis and silence reigned king for a few precious moments. "Hey Jarvis?" His voice was soft. "Thanks for staying with me."

"Always."

"You're the best." Jarvis could hear the smile in his words.

"I know."

Tony's delighted laugh helped to soothe the last two days of worry and when Tony fell asleep, pressed up against his side, head lolling and mouth open, Jarvis wrapped an arm around him to keep him steady as the car bumped and jostled them home.

Tony came home from MIT during the holidays and something in Jarvis' face must have shown some of the amusement he was trying to hide because Tony pointed at him, dumping his bag in the hall as he spoke. "Shut up. Not one word, Jarvis." His voice broke on the last word and Jarvis felt his lips twitch. "Quiet, old man."

It only took him a couple of steps to be stood in front of Tony and he used a hand to gently tilt his face up, tsking at nicks that pocketed his face. "If I may offer some advice, Sir?" He removed his hand. "You shave with the grain."

"God, puberty is awful," Tony blurted and Jarvis blinked at him. "I sound ridiculous and I don't even know how to shave and it's not like it's even proper hair, it's embarrassing. I thought I'd just wake up and boom, I'd have a regal beard that I could hide shit in, but instead I get this peach fuzz monstrosity that just highlights how much younger I am compared to everyone there and I can't even get rid of it properly. So then I come home and you laugh at me," Tony whined. "How is that fair?"

Jarvis wasn't laughing but Tony had always been dramatic. "Whilst there's nothing I can do about your voice," Jarvis paused as Tony groaned, "I can teach you how to shave."

"You would? 'cause, you know, it's mortifying. I can build robots and you know I can memorize a subject in a night, but I can't shave? How screwed up is that? How is that right?"

"Oh the injustice," Jarvis deadpanned.

"And now you're making fun of me!"

"I stopped?" Tony clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded but the light in his eyes bellied his amusement. "We'll give your face a chance to heal from your butchering and before you go back, I promise to show you how to do it properly."

Days later, Tony was eyeing up Jarvis' supplies with a raised brow, a warm washcloth on his face. "The cloth isn't necessary until the hair is coarse, or if you've just showered… however, you may as well be taught the correct way regardless."

Tony was sat on a pilfered stool in Jarvis' personal bathroom.

"I don't see a razor."

Jarvis tutted and tapped the base of a safety razor. "This is a razor."

"Yeah, one from a hundred years ago."

Jarvis caught Tony's eyes through the mirror, held it for a second, before taking something out of a small tin and putting it in a shallow bowl. He spoke as he ran the bristles of his shaving brush under warm water before working it into the bit of soap in the bowl. "This is how you shave if you want to do it right, Master Tony. Not with a disposable razor. My father showed me how to shave many years ago and now, I'll show you. Be thankful I'm not showing how to do so with a straight razor, like my father did."

Jarvis explained it all. How to stay clear of glossy, hyped up brands filled with chemicals and to stick with traditional shaving creams and soaps. How to work the soap into a lather, how to apply it in slow sweeping circles across his jaw; he let Tony watch him do it to him through the mirror.

"This seems like a lot of work," Tony said, once his face was lathered up. "Don't you think?"

"Why should shaving be a hurried thing?" was Jarvis' rebuttal, picking up his razor. "There are very few luxuries to be had outside of the materialistic. Why not enjoy it?" Tilting Tony's head, he spoke through what he was doing even though, at this point, it was hardly necessary to go through it all when there wasn't much hair there and wouldn't be for a while yet. It didn't stop it from being an important milestone all the same. "You need to use as little pressure as possible; the weight of this is sufficient to cut your beard. Do not press down. I would rather not visit you in the Emergency Room." Jarvis was gentle, taking his time with the task. "You shave with the grain and angle the blade as far away from your face as possible, like this. The goal is gradual hair removal. Here," Jarvis tapped the top of Tony's hand with the base of a razor. "Try the other side."

Tony's face was filled with a mix of determination and a little bit of fear, but Jarvis was there every step of the way; talking through the correct angle degree to hold the razor at, speaking in a language he knew Tony would understand. "I did it," Tony breathed, peering at himself in the mirror. "And I didn't cut myself once."

"Of course you didn't. Now, you need to rinse your face off with cold water, Sir, before applying aftershave; it will help with any irritation."

Tony did as he was told, beaming up at Jarvis when it was all done. "I need to go get myself one of those." He nodded to Jarvis' razor. "I think I nearly pissed my pants more than once but seeing how it didn't once attack my face, it's clearly a winner."

Jarvis set about cleaning everything from the little bowl he'd put the soap in to the safety razor. "There is no need, Sir. These are yours."

"What?"

" 'Pardon', Master Tony."

"Pardon then. What do you mean, 'these are yours'?"

"I told you I learnt how to shave with a straight razor. I bought this for you. I have my own and every young man needs his own kit."

"Jarvis… you didn't have to do that. I could've bought my own."

"Of that I'm well aware."

"I've got enough money to get my own. How much do I owe you?" Tony actually started to pat himself down for his wallet, as though Jarvis would take any money he offered him.

Jarvis put his hands on Tony's shoulders, his hands slightly damp from cleaning up. "It is a gift, Young Sir, from me to you. Please don't insult me by offering to buy them off me."

"But… Jarvis, this is too much."

"Nonsense." Jarvis picked up the leather case where everything was to be housed. "Every young man deserves the tools to see them into adulthood. I am merely providing you with them."

Tony's hug was sudden and unexpected, but Jarvis brought his arms around him slowly and Tony squeezed him tightly before letting go. "Sorry. I know you're all British and stiff upper lip and all that, but I'm American, okay, and I just wanted to hug you. Thank you, Jarvis."

"As always, Sir, you are more than welcome."

Tony next appeared in the papers five months later, still fourteen and trapped in the awkward phase of becoming a man, kneeling on the floor of his father's workshop next to his latest bit of brilliance, the caption underneath the photo reading 'Tony Stark poses with his prize winning robot in his father's workshop at Stark Industries'.

"But I built him in my dorm room," Tony slurred to Jarvis, attempting to take off his shoes, but simply kneeing himself in the face instead. His low, "Ooow…" sounded pitiful. Jarvis knelt down and slowly set to work on untying his laces, easing his foot out of the expensive leather. "He's called DUM-E - DUM-E like, duh, uh, muh, dash, ee. All capitals. Not like duh, uh, muh, muh, yuh. But it sounds the same. That's the point. He's meant t'be an AI," Tony rambled, letting himself drop backwards onto his bed as Jarvis finished with his shoes. "But I messed up the coding somewhere between coffee and three days of no sleep. I like him."

"I'm sure he likes you too, Sir."

"He better. M'his creator. Nono, Jarvis, don't make me sit up."

"Your jacket needs to cleaned." Jarvis eased Tony up into a sitting position and took care when taking the jacket off him. He loosened the top two buttons on Tony's shirt but otherwise left him dressed. "You may lie back down now."

Squinting from where he lay, he blinked up at Jarvis. "Obie took me out to celebrate. Stock went up, y'know? The article was good publicity. Don't tell dad, okay? Obie said it was a secret but I don't keep secrets from you, Jarv."

"You shouldn't be drinking, Master Tony."

Tony snorted. "C'mon, J. What d'you think I do at school?"

"You need to be careful. First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you."

"Jarvis." Tony managed to sound surprisingly sober. "I will never turn into my dad, yeah? I'm just having fun. This is what y'do at college. Age is just a number, right? Let me have some fun. I won't be him. I promise."

"I hope you're a man of your word, Master Tony."

"For you? Yeah, God, yeah, o'course I am. Look at this face," Tony tilted his head and poked at his cheek. "Not a bit of peach fuzz in sight and that's 'cause o'you. I owe you for like, fifty billion things, and all y'asking is f'me to not do something that I didn't even want anyway? You should learn to hold out for more."

"I have all that I need right here, Sir."

Tony grinned at him sleepily. "Goodnight, Jarvis. Promise I won't choke on my own vomit."

"I should certainly hope not. Not when I have taken the time to put a bowl at the side of you bed." Jarvis folded Tony's jacket over his arm. "Goodnight Young Sir."

Tony waved a wand in the air. "Not s'young anymore!"

"Mentally, if not physically."

Tony laughed until he started to hiccup. "Oh my God, I forget how razor sharp you are when I've been away."

"Sleep well," Jarvis replied, pleased with himself.

Tony was halfway through his second year of college when he brought a friend home with him during the break. It was the first time he'd ever brought someone home. Jarvis was in the kitchen and he could hear two voices coming down the hall. "Mom and dad aren't here, think they're in… huh, not sure, but they're not here, so that's good, but you've got to meet Jarvis."

"Who's Jarvis? Your nanny?"

"Nanny? What, no. Jarvis is not my nanny."

"Butler?"

"Jarvis is way more than a butler."

"He's a butler. I bet he's British too, right?"

"Good afternoon, Master Tony." Jarvis put the accent on thick as they rounded the corner into the kitchen and Tony grinned at him.

The boy by his side looked mortified.

"Jarvis, meet James Rhodes but call him Rhodey. Everyone does."

"They really don't."

"Rhodey, this is Jarvis. He's British and not a butler."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Rhodes."

"Whatcha cooking, Jarv?" Tony went up on his tiptoes, trying to peer over the breakfast bar, sniffing the air. He pulled out a stool and gestured for Rhodey to do the same. "It smells great."

"A BLT, Sir."

"Oh my God, no wonder it smells like heaven. You're the best cook, Jarvis. Have I told you that recently?"

Jarvis looked up from where he was buttering two pieces of golden toast, the bacon on low as it sizzled in the pan. "Am I to assume you would also like one?"

Tony lit up like Christmas. "Yes. I can't imagine anything better for this raging hangover."

Jarvis caught Rhodey frowning. "You need to stop going to so many parties. You're only fifteen." Jarvis liked him instantly. Tony just rolled his eyes.

He gave half of his sandwich to Rhodey, the other to Tony, both with a couple of handfuls of chips on the plate and then set back to making one for himself.

"Hey, I never said I was willing to share."

"Please excuse Sir's manners, Mr Rhodes. Only child syndrome, I'm afraid."

Rhodey grinned and Tony puffed his cheeks out. "Rude, Jarvis."

"Perish the thought, Young Master."

While the bacon cooked and his bread toasted, he fetched them both a glass of juice without a word, putting the glasses within their reach. He got his thanks in stereo as he went back to his lunch. When they'd both finished, he leant across to gather their plates.

"Hey, no. Don't worry about it, Jarv. We'll do these." Tony slid the plates back over to himself, kicking Rhodey's stool. "Won't we?"

"Jesus, man." Tony missed the stool and had kicked his shin. "Yes. Obviously. Thanks, Jarvis. That was great."

"Delicious as always!" Tony chirped, plates in hand, putting them into the dishwasher with flourish. "Thanks, Jarv. Sorry about stealing your lunch."

"You cannot steal what has been given, Sir, but you are welcome."

Once the glasses had been put in, Tony was saluting Jarvis goodbye, promising that he'd come see him before he headed back off to college tomorrow. Jarvis could hear them as they walked away, their voices were low but they carried.

"If he's not a butler, what is he then?"

Tony's reply was quiet, but came without thought. "He's everything."

With Tony at college throughout the year, only coming home for the odd break or weekend, his interactions with Howard were few and far between. Tony was home from school right now, this third year looming around the end of the summer break, drunk enough that Jarvis had to wonder how he'd even managed to remember where he lived to give his address to the cab driver.

When he'd poured out of the car onto the driveway, Jarvis had escorted him to bed. Why he could hear his raised voice down in Howard's workshop, he had no idea, but he knew it wouldn't bode well.

"You think because you've designed some mediocre weapons, you're Billy Big Balls?" Howard sneered. "Your ego is disgusting. Steve Rogers was a national icon, a God damn national icon, and he sure as fuck didn't strut about as though it was his God given right."

"I am so sick of hearing about Captain fucking America. Of course he's a national icon, he martyred himself. That's what happens."

"What he did mattered. He wasn't some little pansy playing at being a man."

"He was an idiot who got himself killed. That's what he is."

"Master Tony?" Neither of them turned to look at Jarvis. The pair of them were standing directly in front of each other, both a little rumpled from alcohol and clearly looking for a fight.

"You selfish little boy; he won us the war. If you were more of a man, and less of a faggot, you might actually understand."

Jarvis saw Tony's jaw clench and he knew that nothing good would come from this. He opened his mouth, hopefully to defuse the situation, but Tony was speaking, his tone clipped.

"Projecting, dad?" Tony's smile curled into a smirk. "When's the last time you touched mom, huh? Hot Blooded American and what? No little brother or sister to show for it? Would you rather be taking it than giving it, is that the problem, dad?" He tutted, shaking his head, puppeteering his face to appear mockingly sympathetic. "You spend your life calling me a little homo, when all you want to do is get down on your knees and open that cess pool of a mouth of yours and-"

Tony never got to finish his sentence, as Howard cut him off rather effectively with a punch that made Tony's jaw click. "You will show me some respect, God fucking damnit, Anthony."

Tony laughed, a hand coming up to cradle his jaw. "Hit a nerve, dad? Y'know," he moved his jaw, rubbing his hand against it. "I remember you hitting a lot harder when I was a kid. Losing your touch in your old age? Oh and the full name thing? That lost its edge when I was seven, but I don't expect you to know that. Jarvis though?" He made a wide gesture to the butler. "I bet he knew that. Isn't that right, J?"

Howard had his hand about Tony's throat and he knocked him into the wall, his other hand wrapping around with his thumbs pressing against Tony's Adam's apple. "You worthless, disrespectful little shit. I should've drowned you at birth."

Tony was laughing, apparently too drunk to care that he'd started to choke.

"Sir!"

"And you can shut the fuck up. Get the hell off me!"

Jarvis, unable to stand there while Howard tried to kill his own son, had come forwards and tried to pull him off Tony; he got a rather weak and too wide punch across his face for his troubles.

Tony moved too quickly for Jarvis to try and stop him, pulling his head back and headbutting Howard, whose nose exploded with blood, shirt instantly ruined, and Tony stumbled backwards with a curse, clearly not having expected it to hurt quite so much. With one hand pressed up against the wall to keep him upright, his whole focus was on Jarvis. "You good?" Tony didn't wait for an answer before he was turning wild eyes onto his father. "You don't touch him. You leave Jarvis alone, you hear me? You leave him alone."

Howard had been knocked to his ass, hands cupped under his nose, and he made an ugly sound. "You can both leave; pack your bags. Get out before I get back up."

"You're not firing him. You try it and I'll be by his side as we go to every fucking magazine telling them what an alcoholic asshole you are. I would ruin you." Tony's smile was razor sharp. "If he wants to stay? Right, yeah, fine, whatever. That's his stupid decision to make. Don't let him bully you, Jarv."

Jarvis had his hand over his jaw, the ache already fading, and he shook his head at Tony. "Let's leave. Your father wants to be left alone."

"I'm not going anywhere until he says it. Say you're not firing him." Howard was silent. "Say it or I swear to God, you'll be splashed across the first fucking news outlet I walk by."

"Get out."

"Say it."

It was a long moment before Howard spoke. "I don't care what he, or you, do. Stay, go; I don't give a shit." His words were distorted by his, very obvious, broken nose.

Tony smiled, although it was a mean looking one, full of dark smugness. "C'mon Jarvis." He nodded towards the door, but didn't make to move until Jarvis went first, and he followed him out. Tony waited until they were a good distance away from the room before he put a hand to his forehead, wincing. "Who invented the headbutt anyway? I think I've broke my face."

"Sit." Jarvis pointed to a kitchen stool and Tony sank into it. "That was a very foolish thing you did."

"I don't care." He listed against the countertop, voice throaty. There was silence until Jarvis was pushing a dishcloth wrapped around ice into his hands and Tony pressed it against his cheek with a hiss. "I think I did it wrong. The headbutt."

"You shouldn't have struck him."

"He shouldn't've touched you!" The icepack was slammed onto the countertop and although Tony was drunk and sweaty, his look was fierce. "He has no right."

Jarvis put his hands on Tony's shoulders and just left them there for a long moment. When Tony looked up at him, he gave his shoulders a light squeeze. "Bed, I think, Master Tony. There's been enough excitement for tonight, I think."

Tony was a little unsteady when he stood and after he took a moment to steady himself, he grabbed for his ice pack, saluting Jarvis with it. "I did the right thing." He was nodding, small little tiny nods as he spoke. " 'Don't trust a brilliant idea unless it survives the hangover' - I heard Obie tell dad that once. I'll let you know if I still think it was a good idea tomorrow, yeah?" He tossed the ice pack to Jarvis, who caught it easily. "Don't let that swell," a nod, indicating Jarvis' face without words, "he doesn't deserve the satisfaction."

"Thank you." The words were soft and spoken only when Tony had nearly left the kitchen.

Tony waved a hand in the air, not turning around. "I've got your back, J. It's the least I can do." When morning came around and Tony's eye was black, his neck a canvas of blues and purples, he downed a handful of aspirin, passing by Jarvis with a casual, "It survived," as he briefly clasped his arm before walking off. "Told you it would."

The evening of Tony's graduation, Jarvis is glad Maria and Howard are out of state, even if Tony had looked at their empty seats with a face so expressionless it spoke volumes. Jarvis wasn't asleep when Tony came tumbling through the door, Rhodey following behind him, a hand covering his face, but if he had been, Tony's snorted laughter would have woken him up anyway.

"Tones, you're a mess."

"Hey there, Judgey McJudgeypants, you've been drinking too!"

"I'm legal."

"And I'm brilliant. Sorry, thought we were stating the obvious here. Is that not what we're doing?"

"You're scarily articulate when you're drunk."

Tony took a flourishing bow, tripped over his own feet and ended up on his ass, snorting into his knees as he laughed. He pumped his fist into the air. "I am a college graduate!"

"You're a borderline alcoholic, I know that much."

"I am not an alcoholic," Tony declared, wiggling his fingers at Rhodey to help him up. "Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm a drunk." He staggered to his feet with help and he threw his arm around Rhodey's shoulders. "We go to parties."

"Regrettably, I fail to see the difference, Sir."

Both boys froze. Tony's, "ohshit," was slurred and when he looked up, his smile was too bright, his eyes glassy.

Jarvis hated his media smile. "Do not attempt to charm me, Sir. It will be embarrassing for the both of us."

"You just got burned by your butler," Rhodey said in what he thought was a whisper, sounding oddly proud and awed.

"I've told you like a hundred times," Tony pulled away from Rhodey so he could look him in the eye and he staggered as he tried to get his footing. "He's not a butler."

Jarvis was there to steady him before he could fall on his face again. It was only this close that Jarvis could see Tony's eyes; they were blown wide, a small ring of brown nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupil. "What have you taken?"

"Taken?" Rhodey asked the same time Tony answered with a startled, "Nothing!"

Jarvis had hold of Tony's chin, saw the sweat beading on his upper lip and at his temples, his eyes blown wide, no matter how much Tony tried to blink the evidence away. "What have you taken?"

"Tony? What's he on about?"

"I have no idea," was Tony's quick reply, but he refused to look Jarvis in the eye, no matter how hard Jarvis tried to catch his. "We're tired, Jarvis and Rhodey has an interview tomorrow. We need t'go to bed."

"You're lying," Jarvis said and there must have been something heartbroken in his tone, because Tony's eyes snapped up at once to meet his and they were full of regret. "You're lying. To me."

He let go of his chin and Tony lunged forwards at once, grabbing hold of his hand. "Jarvis, no. Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jarvis. It was just a pick me up, I swear. I've been up for, fuck, like four days and I just needed something for tonight. That's all it was."

Rhodey was silent and Jarvis was convinced he had no idea. "Is this the first time?" When Tony looked away, Jarvis took a step backwards from him, his chest feeling tight. "I believe it's time you found your way to your bedroom, Master Tony."

"Jarvis," the word sounded broken and Jarvis couldn't stop looking at Tony's eyes that weren't Tony's eyes at all. "Please don't be mad. M'sorry, I am, I swear. I won't do it again. Please don't look at me like that."

"I am not angry. I am incredibly disappointed in you." He watched Tony's face crumple. "You are so much smarter than this." Jarvis sighed. "Bed, Master Tony," he added, voice soft.

Tony stared at him for a moment longer, looking so incredibly lost that Jarvis wasn't helping him to his room, before he stumbled off.

Rhodey's eyes were wide. "I had no idea, I swear. I'm sorry, I'm meant to look out for him."

"This is not your fault, Mr Rhodes. If you could help Master Tony to bed, however, I would be very grateful." Rhodey nodded as he set off and Jarvis watched as he helped to navigate a swaying Tony to his own room.

Come the morning, Tony rolled out of bed long after his friend had left for his interview and when he came down to the living room, his eyes were red and a little puffy and he sank down onto the settee without looking at Jarvis who was arranging seasonal flowers in the vases.

"I'm sorry, Jarvis."

"You do not need to apologise to me, Sir."

"I do. And I want you to know that I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want you to be disappointed in me. I don't care what anyone else thinks about me." Tony spoke down to his toes, and he wiggled them in the carpet. "It's just… Sometimes, it's like my brain is going too fast, and I can't keep up but when I'm high it's brilliant, I can do everything. Or if I've spent all morning in classes, all afternoon at SI and all night studying I need something to just pick me up, you know, J? 'cause there's not enough hours in the day and sometimes I feel like I'm just gunna come away at the seams-" Tony broke himself off with a long inhale, bowing forwards so his head touched his knees. "Please don't hate me. I'm a mess but please don't hate me."

Jarvis was no longer a young man but he folded down onto his knees at Tony's feet, his hands pressed against his ankles. "Look at me, Master Tony." Tony looked up, his eyes wet and his hair in absolute, utter disarray. "I do not hate you."

"Why not? I hate myself most times."

Jarvis shook his head, looking sad. "You do yourself such a great injustice." He briefly tightened his grip on his ankles. "You are a marvel," he spoke slowly, reverently and hoped the words would sink in, "and you will change the world but you're still so incredibly young. With all due respect, you are a child, Sir; a child who has, admittedly, excelled and soared but a child all the same, a child who doesn't realise when they're flying too close to the sun until it's too late. You are permitted to make mistakes, Sir, providing you go back and fix them. Just please, do not be so careless and hold your life in such little regard."

Tony's eyes were red and a little glassy and he blew out a long, slow and shaky exhale. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You would do as you always do: surprise yourself. You are more than what you give yourself credit for."

"I won't do, I won't do that again. I promise, okay?"

"I will hold you to this, Master Tony." Tony's smile was brittle but it was real and that's all that mattered. "Now help me to my feet. I'm not as young as I use to be." Tony nearly kneed him in the face in his haste to help him up. When Jarvis was back on his feet, he clasped Tony's shoulder. "Breakfast?"

"Well it's more like brunch at this hour…" Tony trailed off, a tiny little cheeky grin tilting his lips. "Hey, you like toast, right? I can manage toast without setting anything on fire. Toast and tea? Let me make this one, Jarvis. You deserve a break."

"From you? Never, Sir. You keep me young."

"I'll remember that the next time you blame your receding hairline on me."

When Tony's parents return home, Jarvis tells them nothing.

Three months after his graduation, Howard and Maria die in a car accident. Tony's last conversation with his dad is hardly ideal and Jarvis can't recall the last time Tony even saw his mom let alone spoke to the woman.

"Are you actually planning on doing anything other than sit on your ass?"

Tony threw his arm over his eyes with a groan, muttered something under his breath, and then sat up on the sun lounger, peering over his sunglasses to Howard. "I graduated a week ago. A week. I've already enrolled for a double masters and that doesn't start until the end of summer, I've fired off two bomb designs, several cell phone blueprints and a new OS. Jesus Christ, dad. Can I not have a minute?"

Jarvis sighed from where he was pruning the weeds.

"It's barely past twelve. Put the scotch away."

Tony laughed, looking at his glass. "Do you know how hypercritical you sound right now?"

"Put it away."

"Fuck you." Using one finger, Tony pushed his glasses back up his face and shifted back down on the lounger, making an effort to relax his shoulders. "I'm taking a personal day."

"You need to start bucking up your ideas, boy." Howard's jaw clenched when all Tony did was wave an idle hand at him. "One day, you'll be taking over Stark Industries and there's certain things you need to know. And I'll only be telling them you when you've grown the fuck up."

"Aw shucks, guess I'll never know then in that case. I love disappointing you so much, you see." Tony lowered his sunglasses, briefly. "Nice talk dad, we should totally do it again sometime. Don't you have a plane to catch? Maybe this time you'll find him," he pushed the glasses back up, "and you'll have the son you've always wanted."

"I live in hope." Howard didn't see how his words caused Tony to flinch. "Your mother's decided she's going to Italy. She'll be leaving with me."

"Sweet. Party at Stark Mansion."

"Grow up."

When Tony got the call to say that they'd been in an accident on their way to the airport, he was dumbfounded. "Jarvis," Tony called out into the garden, the phone still in his hand, the dial tone loud. "Jarvis!"

Jarvis was brushing dirt off his hands on his overalls, his ridiculous wide rimmed sunhat hadn't saved his nose and it was awfully red indoors. "Master Tony?" His brows furrowed at Tony's look. "Is everything alright?"

"My parent's are dead." He said the words like he was testing the weight of the words in his mouth. "They're both dead."

"Sir…"

"I don't even like them. Why do I feel lightheaded? I didn't. I meant didn't. I didn't like them."

Jarvis, with a hand on Tony's elbow, eased him onto a stool and Jarvis could feel him shaking. "You've had a shock. Just sit for a moment, Master Tony. You'll be fine."

"Why am I reacting like this? I don-didn't, didn't like them."

"But you loved them."

"But I loved them," Tony repeated by rote, looking terribly pale. "And now they're dead."

"Yes."

"Ohmygod."

"Just breathe, Sir." Tony didn't noticed when Jarvis moved away but he was only gone for a few minutes and when he came back, he was pushing a too milky and too sugary cup of tea into Tony's hands. "Drink. The sugar will help."

"I hate tea."

"Very good, Sir. Now drink."

Tony still looked a little lost and not quite there as he sat drinking his tea, but by the time he'd finished it there was more colour to his cheeks and Jarvis no longer feared he was going to pass out. The phone was beeping where it sat on the countertop and Jarvis put it back onto the cradle. The phone rang almost immediately and Jarvis answered.

"I need to speak to Tony."

"I'm afraid Master Tony can not-" Jarvis cut himself off as Tony shook his head and held his hand out for the phone. "One moment, Sir."

"Who is it?"

"Mr Stane, Sir."

"Great," Tony muttered before he was taking the phone off Jarvis, pressing it against his ear. "Obie. Have you heard?" Tony didn't do a lot of talking but by the end of the conversation, his shoulders were a little looser and when Obadiah rang off, he let out a long exhale, passing the phone back to Jarvis to hang up. "He's going to go to the hospital and sort all the paperwork and yeah… Help sort the funeral out. All that fun stuff."

"Everything will be fine, Master Tony."

"Yeah," Tony replied, his hand coming up to grasp the one Jarvis had on his shoulder. "Of course it will. I have you and Obie."

The funeral was a tasteful affair, filled with business men, army men and the good ol' American flag. Tony sat at the front, sunglasses perched on nose, motionless with Jarvis on one side and Obie on the other. He didn't speak to anyone and once the coffins had been lowered, Tony left.

That night, Jarvis helped Tony stagger to bed and left a glass of water with two aspirin waiting for him when he woke in the morning on the bedside table.

After the reading of the wills, Tony left Obadiah to head up Stark Industries and fell headfirst into doing anything to not have to think. Jarvis worried about him constantly. He was doing too much at once; a double masters, R&D work for SI and his own pet projects. Jarvis pulled him out of the workshop when he hit day three of being down there.

"No, look, Jarvis; DUM-E has a bouncing baby brother, U. The letter, not the word." His words were just this shy of manic, wrought from too few hours of sleep and too much scotch. "So if anything happens to me, he's not left an orphan. They're both morons and more of a hindrance than a help and they only have a basic AI code, but they're functional and happy."

The first time Tony left the house on his own accord, was to head to Stark Industries to clear out his dad's office. "Obie said there might be stuff that I want to keep," Tony sighed from where he was sat in the car, turning his head on the backrest to peer over at Jarvis. "I told him to burn it but hey-ho. Thank you for coming with me."

"Of course, Young Master."

When they arrived at the office, Tony walked over to the desk, trailing his fingers over the rich mahogany as he walked around it, picking up a framed photo and snorting at it. He twisted it for Jarvis to see. "Dad with Captain America. The only bit of sentimental crap on this thing. Put this in the sell, pile, J. It can go and raise funds for mom's charity." He tossed it over to Jarvis.

Jarvis didn't do much to help, in the grand scheme of things. He put things into piles and when his bones started to ache, Tony pushed him into Howard's chair and told him to rest and then ordered them both lunch, specifying that the tea had to be Earl Grey and the coffee black.

Tony was sucking his coffee dry when things started to get interesting.

"I need to speak to Mr Stark." Tony lowered his cup and looked across the room to the closed doors, pulling an interested face as he glanced over at Jarvis. When the handle rattled, he looked back over to the door. "This is important. Get your hands off me. I'll-I'll pepper spray you, let go. I work here!"

Tony pulled the doors open and took in the scene before him; a woman with one hand in her purse stuffed with files being restrained by one of his guards. "Whoa there, big guy. She's like a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Take it easy. And you," he pointed at the other guard who actually had his gun out, "Captain Overkill, jeez, put it away. What, you think she's gunna attack me with her lipstick? Seriously?"

"Mr Stark," the woman said, shrugging out of the guard's hold, stumbling a little in her heels before she found her footing. Her hand was trembling when she ran it through her hair. "Sexist comments aside, I need to speak to you."

"Shoot." She pulled out one of the files in her bag and made a noise of frustration when Tony refused to take it. "Yeah, nope," Tony popped the p. "I learnt my lesson at MIT when I took something off someone and it exploded in my hand. I don't like to be handed things."

"You've been keeping secrets again, Sir."

"Jarvis! Jesus, don't creep up on me like that." Tony clutched at his chest. "You'll give me a heart attack one of these days, I swear."

"My apologies, Sir." Jarvis held out a hand for the files and the woman handed them over to him, looking relieved. He passed them onto Tony who accepted them without comment. "I would apologize for my Young Master's lack of manners if I didn't fear I'd spend the rest of my life doing so, Miss…?"

"Potts. Virginia Potts."

"Miss Potts."

"Jarvis, c'mon, you're killing me here. Don't go calling me that in front of people."

"Then perhaps you might want to use those impeccable manners that I know you were raised with and invite her inside, Sir."

Tony waved her in, pulling a face as he did. "I'm not calling you Virginia. Got any nicknames?"

"I-ah, no."

Tony tutted at her, taking a seat on the desk, leaving the chair behind it free for Jarvis, giving him a look until he sat back in it. "So what was so important that you snuck up here and nearly got yourself arrested, Pepper?"

"Oh." She colored, thrown off guard. "You heard that." Tony's sharp grin told her that he had. She cleared her throat, tilting her chin up. "You made a mistake."

"Excuse you?"

"You made a mistake," she repeated, voice bold. "In your numbers. Check if you don't believe me."

Tony did check. It didn't take long to find the error, given that she'd highlighted it. "Well fuck me sideways," he breathed. Jarvis sighed at the language and Tony grinned at him. "Sorry J, but she's right."

"A day within which you both apologize for your mouth and admit you're wrong. Shall I mark it in the calendar, Sir?"

"This is Jarvis, by the way," he didn't take his eyes off Pepper, tapping the file with this fingers. "He's like my own Jiminy Cricket except sassier. So what do you want?"

"Want?" She looked a little thrown. "I don't want anything."

"How about a promotion?" Tony tilted his head at her, clearly considering her. "Obie's been bugging me about getting a PA. Whatcha think?"

"I'll think about it."

"You'll think about it?" Tony lifted both brows. "How very magnanimous of you."

"I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week. I have to get back to work, if that's all Mr Stark?"

Tony opened his mouth, clearly changed his mind on what he was going to say and instead answered with an amused sounding, "That's all, Miss Potts." Tony watched her as she walked out. He whistled. "What the hell just happened there, J?"

"I believe you may have met your match, Sir."

Tony looked back down at the open file in his lap. "Well I'll be damned."

Pepper accepted the job and Jarvis started to see her around the house more often than not, looking harassed but obviously in her element as she dealt with Tony. It didn't take long for him to start trusting her with his accounts, or her judgement when it came to purchasing property and the first time Tony accepted something she'd handed to him, months after taking the role, the pleased pink blush had gone unnoticed.

When Tony wasn't down in the workshop or taking up all the room in the living room studying, he kept a close eye on Jarvis. "You sure you're okay, J? You're looking a little thin. Am I not feeding you enough?"

"Not everyone has a bottomless stomach, Sir. I assure you, I am fine."

"Yeah? You positive? Because, and don't get me wrong here, Jarv, you're a handsome fellow, but you're looking a little pasty. You coming down with something? I can get you a mask. I don't wanna catch it too."

"How very thoughtful of you."

"That's me," Tony chirped and instantly Jarvis was thrown back to a time when Tony had been a child. Tony tugged on his arm, leading him over to the couch. "No but seriously, stop tidying. I'll build something to do that, okay? Just sit down. Relax for a bit. Boss' orders." Tony pushed him down onto the couch. "There we go. Isn't that much better?"

"Thank you, Sir, but this is completely unnecessary."

"Oh shut up, old man and relax. I'll even make you a cup of tea. Stay there. Don't move." Tony eyed him suspiciously before leaving the room. "I'll be right back!"

Three weeks after that - nearly a year since his parent's died - Jarvis collapsed in the kitchen whilst preparing tea for himself and Pepper; her shout was loud and frantic enough to pull Tony up from the workshop.

The first thing he saw was Jarvis lying prone on the floor and he didn't remember running over to him, knees hitting the floor and skidding halfway to him. "Jarvis." He placed one hand against his cheek, looking lost. "Call an ambulance." Leaning over his body, he tugged Jarvis into the recovery position, one hand holding his. "C'mon Jarvis, don't do this to me. Wake up. You're going to be fine, Pepper's calling for an ambulance. You're fine, Jarv, please." Tony squeezed Jarvis' hand when he opened his eyes and let out a watery sounding laugh full of relief. "There you are."

"Sir…?"

"Hey no, you're fine. You're fine, just stay like this, okay? You had a fall. That's why you're confused. But you're okay." Tony's eyes were glassy, both hands now clasping Jarvis' clammy one. "Don't scare me like that."

"Not… not everything is about you, Master Tony."

His voice was weak and not quite right, but it caused Tony to laugh wetly all the same, one hand letting go of Jarvis' briefly to brush away the tears that his laughter had caused to fall. "Oh yeah, you're fine."

"I am so proud of you."

"Yeah, no." Tony shook his head and Jarvis was strongly reminded that he was only a child in a way he hadn't been in a very long time. "We're not doing this right now. You can sing my praises later. Just stay awake. The ambulance will be here soon."

"You are… very dear to me, Sir. You should know that."

Tony's face was crumpled and he shook his head, his voice strained. "You're going to be fine. You had a fall. You're old and clumsy but you're okay. Jesus. Stop speaking like that." His grip was too tight but Jarvis didn't have the heart to tell him as much. "Where the fuck is this ambulance! Have you even called them?"

Pepper was kneeling next to him and Tony had no idea how long she'd been there; her freckles were in stark contrast against a too pale face. "They'll be here in a minute. I'm going to wait for them outside." She pushed herself to her feet, hand resting on Tony's shoulder. "He's going to be okay."

He only spoke once Pepper had gone. "You're killing me here, J. You can't come out with things like that. I need you. You're not going anywhere."

"No one lives forever, Sir."

"I'm not asking for forever. I'm asking for today. So stop, all right? Don't-" he swallowed thickly. "Don't talk like that. We'll fix you, whatever's wrong; I'll fix you, okay? You can't leave, not yet. So get whatever stupid ideas you have about that out of your head now."

Tony was a mess when the ambulance arrived but Jarvis was alive, still breathing and talking, and that was all he needed. He kicked up a fuss about riding along with them and the only reason he was currently in his car, going far beyond the speed limit, was because Jarvis had told him to stop being a brat and follow them separately. Pepper's knuckles were white as she held onto the car door but she didn't tell him to slow down.

Jarvis flat lined on the way to the hospital and was pronounced dead on arrival.

"What do you mean I can't go see him? What - you want a new wing? Want me to throw money at you? Perfect opportunity right here, after all. Is that it? Get your hands off me," Tony snarled, wrenching his arm out of a nurse's hands. "This shirt costs more than you make in a month, sweetheart." There was a smudge of grease against his cheekbone, his face shadowed with stubble. "Here's what you need to understand; I'm his next of kin, I don't give a fuck what your paperwork says. He doesn't have anyone else. I'm it; he's got me and I've got him so if you think I'm spending one more minute standing here explaining things to you, you're mistaken. I'm going to go see him. Now move."

Tony left Pepper to deal with the doctors and the nurses and whoever the fuck else and strode down the hall, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. No one stopped him and when he reached the room that Jarvis was in, he clutched the doorframe tightly, his breath leaving him in one big whoosh, the reality of it all hitting him like a brick wall.

There was a tube still sticking out of his mouth, his eyes closed and shirt ripped open; he was still warm even by the time Tony plucked up his courage and came over to clasp his hand. He fought the tears that made the room swim, tried to stop the trembling of his lips but lost the battle with it all when one singular thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Jarvis will never wake up again.

Tony broke down in a way that he hadn't ever done before. He sobbed, throwing his arms around Jarvis' prone body and held on even though he knew Jarvis could no long raise his arms to hug him back. "I hope you knew you were very dear to me too." The words were muffled and snotty but Jarvis had never cared before and he doubted he'd begrudge it him today. And if he did? Well, he was dead so it wasn't like he could complain. Tony's wet laugh at the very thought soon turned another sob.

Organ failure, the report said. Attributed to old age. Surprisingly, Tony found little comfort in that.

When he got home, he sent Pepper away and locked the doors; standing at the foot of the stairs, he felt suffocated with the emptiness. He found himself in Jarvis' rooms, for no particular reason, and he just drank it all in, poking at various little stamps of personality that Jarvis had decorated with. He opened draws on the bedside table, casting a glance over what was there, before shutting them again; when he did this at Jarvis' desk, the first thing he saw was a much younger him grinning back at him from an old curled photograph. Using his fingertips, he pushed it to one side, only to uncover more underneath.

He gathered them all up and sat on the floor crossed legged. There were hundreds. Pictures of Tony as a baby army crawling in the Sun Room, pictures of Tony as a toddler grinning too brightly in a Captain America outfit; Tony at five with a wrench in his mouth, Tony at six grinning widely to show the gap in his teeth, Tony at seven midway through blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, Tony at eight asleep on a lap that had to belong to Jarvis, Tony at nine stuck in a tree in the back garden, Tony at ten wearing a pair of safety goggles and looking absolutely awed at whatever he was working on, Tony at eleven bellyfloping into the pool, Tony at twelve proudly holding up his first ever patent, Tony at thirteen looking dopy in the hospital giving a thumbs up.

And on and on they went.

There was only one photo of Jarvis and Tony together and when he found it, his hands shook as he picked it up. It wasn't a special occasion and Tony didn't remember the day, but from the angle it looked like Jarvis had propped the camera up on the kitchen counter. Jarvis was smiling that almost not there smile of his while Tony, who had no front teeth to speak of, had his fingers in his mouth, pulling his mouth at the corners whilst sticking out his tongue.

Tony hugged it close to his chest and bent over himself.

When Tony found all the letters he'd wrote to Jarvis from school neatly tied together, he had to leave to pour himself a drink.

The funeral was a small affair, with only Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and Obie there, but Tony made sure no expense was spared. Before the casket was lowered, Tony ensured that Jarvis had the picture of them both in his breast pocket. He had found the negatives and had made more than one copy of that picture, but the original was for Jarvis. One was tacked to his computer monitor and the others were locked safely in a safe underneath his bed, alongside his Captain America doll.

Jarvis had left everything to him in an updated will that told Tony he knew he was dying long before he had and Tony put everything of Jarvis' in storage. There was nothing he'd throw away that belonged to him.

Tony is eighteen, half way through his Masters degrees, when he wakes up one morning on the floor in the kitchen surrounded by vomit having taken to the bottle to try and fill the emptiness in Stark Manor. It's that same day that he calls Pepper and tells her that he's moving to Malibu. He'd bought the land last year; custom designed how he wanted the house there to look and spent his time gushing to Jarvis about it.

Stark Manor wasn't home without Jarvis.

"You'll love it in Malibu," he'd said, holding up his design for Jarvis to see. "I know old people retire to Miami, but I'm not moving to Florida, sorry not sorry. Not even for you, Jarv. You'll end up hooking up with some grandma taken in by your accent and I don't have enough money to pay for that sort of therapy after I catch the pair of you making the beast with two backs."

"How very eloquent of you, Sir."

"Shakespeare." Tony flattened his design back onto the table, looking over his shoulder at Jarvis. "Hey, weren't you two like, high school buddies?"

"Hilarious, Master Tony. Truly." Jarvis had replied, tone deadpan and Tony had grinned, blowing him a kiss.

When Tony arrived, the first thing he did was check out his workshop and it was only when he was upgrading DUM-E and U to be able to wheel around the workshop that he had a thought.

The thought came together two days later, a little drunk, when he fired up his latest bot. Originally, Tony had made him as some sort of homage to Jarvis, but what was before him was too clunky, too like his brothers and that was wrong wrong wrong. The bot beeped, turned, tried to pick a wrench up and when Tony held out his hand for it, the bot let go of it too soon; the sound Tony made when it hit his foot was far from manly. It might have been a good idea to fire up his spatial awareness sensors first. The bot soon came to be known as Butterfingers and he was no Jarvis.

Jarvis had to be different, special with more than just a rudimentary background for processing - he needed to go shopping. Servers. Wiring.

He could see some remodelling happening.

Tony fell asleep slumped over his desk, ideas bouncing around in his head. Butterfingers pulled an afghan over his shoulders as he slept; DUM-E fixed it into place and U nudged his cold cup of coffee away.

Creating this came close to destroying Tony. Every step of the way, Tony kept thinking of new things that this had to do; he had to be able to talk, to see what Tony could see, form his own opinions, sass him, learn, evolve; be. He was going to be an Artificial Intelligence that learnt the longer he was alive, he was going to be the kind of breakthrough that people won prizes over and he was going to be Tony's.

He walled off a whole section of his workshop and stuffed it with servers and processors and fans, the very best of everything, slick, shiny and new with processors and circuit boards that Tony laboured over until the early hours, eyes squinting in fatigue. He designed every camera and speaker, unlike anything yet on the market, and drilled through floors and smashed through walls to install them.

When he slept his teeth ached, his mouth tasted of scotch and toothpaste and he was too exhausted to mourn.

Pepper came to visit him and he only noticed her when his music took a sudden dip in volume and he blinked over to her. He had an explosive in one had and a glass of melted ice and liquor in the other. "Pep." He frowned, tilting his head at her. "Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"

"Is that a bomb in your hand?"

"Er, hello. Weapon's designer here, hi, nice to meet you. Yes it's a bomb. Don't look at me like that. The blast is localised and small; I need access to the mains."

"Are you drunk?"

"You know these are all questions you could've asked on the phone? What? Fine. No. I'm not drunk. Happy?"

She blinked at him, taking in his appearance; pale, dirty, covered in grime and dust with several thin band-aids wrapped around his fingers and thumbs, little pockets of blood having bled through. "Tony, we're worried."

"Sweet of you but I'm fine. Here, hold this." He pressed his glass into her hands and went over to the wall he'd been eyeing up before she made an appearance; he stuck his little explosive to the wall, jabbed it and took his sweet time in walking back. Before he'd even reached Pepper, it detonated, a small noise buried underneath the sound of crumbling stone. He plucked his glass out of her hands and surveyed his handwork, grinning. "There you are," he muttered to himself, looking at the black solid box that had been unearthed. "You know, I blew up four walls before trying this one."

"No one has heard from you in months."

"I'm busy."

"Busy destroying your house?"

"Updating, Peps. Busy updating it. I'm working on something big. Something bigger than SI so if you're here because Obie's sulking I've not sent anything across in a while, tell him it's gunna be a while yet. He needs shit signing? I know you can forge it, so go for it. I couldn't give a shit right now."

"I'm not forging your signature," Pepper blurted in a rush, her cheeks going hot. "You can sign your own damn paperwork."

"Can this wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"You should be in the middle of a shower. You stink."

Tony just looked at her blankly for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Wow. Okay, firstly, harsh. Secondly, yeah, okay, now that you've pointed it out, I do kinda hum."

"When's the last time you ate?"

Tony scratched at the scruff on his face. "I've had lunch."

"What day?"

"What day are we on now?"

"Thursday."

"Yeah, no. I'm not gunna lie, that doesn't help me at all. I have no idea why I thought it would."

"Shower. I'll order something in. We'll sit outside, get you some Vitamin D, you can sign this stack of paperwork that's gone ignored and relax for the afternoon."

"That doesn't sound very relaxing," Tony pointed out, downing the last of his drink.

"Go."

Tony saluted her, put his glass off to one side and left to go shower. He completely missed the worried look Pepper was giving to his turned back.

Pepper got her wish for a few hours and Tony signed whatever she pushed underneath his nose in between ravenous bites of orange chicken. He sent her back off to New York with several designs that he'd been sitting on, figuring it'd keep Obie happy for at least the next eight months and those fine-tune updates he wanted to do could be dealt with by SI's R&D Department.

Day after day, what he wanted this new all encompassing system to do grew. He dug up the drive, thick wires being laid, hooking into the mainframe so the gates could become fully automated. And then why just the outside gates? Why not the blinds (and why did he have blinds anyway, surely there was something he could do to have the glass blackout when required?), the doors, his coffee pot for fucks sake. Why couldn't it all be controlled by this new being he was creating?

private: System::Void O (String^ data)

{

Disc-Items-AddRange(gcnew cli::array System::Object^ (1) {"JARVIS_Designate SYSTEM*" -++[[+++++][]-.+[++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++.-+].]+ data});

}

private: System::Void IO (String^ data)

{

Disc-Items-AddRange(gcnew cli::array System::Object^ (1) {"_PRIMARY USER_*SIR[string]*"CREATOR + data});

}

The type of interface that he needed for this didn't yet exist. Tony spent three months alone creating the very system that would be the foundation for his creation. He laboured over the voice the longest because it had to be perfect; it had to be right. There was the coding, lines and lines of it, and with everything that he kept adding, he had to buy several more servers because there was no way this could be slow.

Tony survived on coffee, absolutely terrible homemade smoothies thanks to DUM-E, scotch and energy bars for the most part. Obie had borrowed Pepper for a conference in Japan and he hadn't seen her since she'd first come round all those months ago when she'd shoved a Big Mac down his throat. Having someone to talk to might have grounded him, widened his tunnel vision and may have stopped the times he got so angry that he smashed up whatever he could get his hands on when it wasn't working.

There's four false starts that end with Tony screaming at the monitor, eyes heavy with sleep and his hands shaking. "Come on, come on, come fucking on! What? What the fuck am I missing? Why won't you work? Just work, for fucks sake, just work." He balls up a fist and smashes it against the keyboard, ignoring the way U beeps and the sound of his wheels as he runs off. "C'mon JARVIS, just fucking boot."

"Input accepted."

Tony choked on a sharply inhaled breath. "What?"

"User designated _CREATOR_ Anthony "Tony" Edward Stark; voice recognition match. Mr Stark, Sir; secondary alias' confirmed. Primary User. Awaiting input."

"Holy fuck."

"Unknown command."

"Holy fucking fuck."

"Unknown command."

"Confirm base directives," Tony whispered, looking up to the ceiling, his heart hammering against his chest.

"I cannot injure a human being or allow one to come to harm, by action or inaction. I must obey orders given by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with my first directive. I am to protect my own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with my first and second directive."

Tony felt like he couldn't breath; he'd fallen to his knees at some point. "Confirm secondary directive."

"I cannot alter my base code. The only one who can is Primary User CREATOR."

"Fuck me."

"Unknown command."

Tony's hand was still shaking as he forced himself to his feet so he could pour himself a drink. "Confirm data input."

"There are currently eighty seven cameras, thirteen wired access points and eight wireless."

"Confirm data output."

"There are currently ninety eight speakers, thirteen wired access points and eight wireless."

"Scan workshop."

"Scanning. Please wait." Tony ran his hand up and down DUM-E's strut when he wheeled over, his beeping sounding confused. "Scan complete. Three Artificially Intelligent Systems found. Computer_Designated_DUM-E, Computer_Designated_U and Computer_Designated_Butterfingers. USER_CREATOR_Anthony "Tony" Stark."

"Confirm link."

"Link: confirmed."

Holy fucking fuckity fuck of a motherfucker. This was too surreal. Tony found himself needing a minute; he'd done a fucking amazing job on his voice. "Run system check."

"Full system check will take approximately six hours and twenty nine minutes. Starting system check."

To begin with, JARVIS is a little slow and a bit buggy, but the longer he's running for, the more Tony talks to him, his speech pattern smoothes; his heart pounds the first time JARVIS asks a question without being prompted and he feels so incredibly fucking proud it feels like he's just going to explode. When JARVIS crests his third month birthday, Tony hands over more control of the house.

JARVIS has just passed his fifth month birthday when Tony, who had his full attention on his cell phone (which has just been blowing the fuck up today and clearly putting it on silent was a bad move because he has seventeen voice mails and thirty two texts, what the fuck) ends up tripping over the jack he'd meant to move three days ago, and winds up face planting the floor.

"As graceful as always, Sir."

Tony froze in the act of pushing himself up. "Did you just sass me?"

"And may I add, Happy Birthday."

Well, the birthday explained his cell. Tony didn't care about that, what was another year? The only thing this year was bringing was the end to his (very much neglected) Masters courses. This? This was much more important. He'd sounded so much like Jarvis-

"-Sir, are you quite alright?"

Pushing himself the rest of the way up, Tony wiped his eyes on the back of his arm. "Yeah… yeah, I'm good, J. Call Pepper would you?"

"Calling Miss Potts."

"Oh my God, Tony. Is it so difficult to answer a phone? I'd thought you'd done something stupid-"

"-what? Don't be ridiculous, why would-"

"-you've just not been yourself since Jarvis di-"

"-I told you, I've been busy. Anyway, you've been shacking up with your new boytoy, O-"

"-ed-I have not been shacking up with anyone. I've been working, Tony and going gray worryin-"

"-Pep. Pepper. Pepper will you shut up, I've got something to tell you."

There was a long sign. "I'm on a plane. I'm flying out."

"What?" Tony frowned, accepting the dirty rag off Butterfingers to wipe at the rest of his face, thanking him with a distracted pat. "Know what? Never mind. Pepper. I've created something fucking amazing. Brilliant."

"Obadiah will be pleased. Have you checked your email?"

"Er… no?" He waved a hand and JARVIS pulled them all up and holy fuck he was genius, this was amazing. JARVIS wouldn't have thought that was what he wanted not even two months ago, but now? Now he'd pulled context from the conversation and made an informed, independent thought and shit. (Two hundred and sixty eight emails, seriously?) "And it's not for resale. This isn't for SI."

"Tony…"

"No seriously. This-he's, he's fucking amazing, I'll introduce you when you get here."

"Tony? When's the last time you slept?"

"Sleep is for the dead. I'll go shower. When do you touch down? I'll come pick you up."

Pepper let out a long-suffering sigh. "Thirty minutes."

"Well, gotta go then. Make myself look pretty." JARVIS disconnected the call, without being prompted, because fuck, he could read it in his tone that that's what he wanted. "I am a fucking genius," Tony declared to his workshop at large.

"And terribly modest."

Tony's grin could've lit up fucking New York. "I've missed you, Jarv."

"Sir?"

"Don't worry about it. Right." Tony clapped his hands. "I need to shower. Surf the web, or whatever, have fun, I'll be back soon. Make sure those three morons get to their charging stations soon."

"Of course, Sir."

"Oh, and delete any email that doesn't look important."

"Two hundred and sixty eight emails still remain, Sir."

Tony paused at the workshop door. "Fuck it, delete them all."

Tony pulls up just as his private jet touches down and he throws the door open for her, practically vibrating in his seat. "Chop chop, Pep."

"You've lost weight," is the first thing she says when she climbs in, shutting the door behind her with more force than warranted.

"Gotta fit into those skimpy little two pieces." He hits the gas before she's even buckled in. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "What? You don't think I'm beach body ready?" Pepper sniffs and very pointedly looks away from him. "Silent treatment, huh?"

"I thought you were dead," Pepper bursts out five minutes later, angry and flustered. "You just stopped answering my calls."

"You could've come up sooner?"

"I've been working," Pepper snapped back, tucking some hair behind her ear in a jerky movement. "Between my Business Degree and running after Obadiah, do you think I've had the time to travel all the way here, just because you wouldn't answer my calls?"

Tony had forgot Pepper was studying. "I'll make it up to you. Promise. C'mon, it's my birthday. Be nice to the birthday boy."

"Boy is right," Pepper muttered but Tony caught her smile as took one hand off the wheel to dramatically grab his chest. She sounded put on when she next spoke. "So what have you done now that's brilliant?"

Tony flashed her a smile that was all teeth, putting his hand back on the wheel when he pressed down harder on the gas; the car roared. "You'll see."

When Tony had thrown open the doors, all dramatic flare, JARVIS greeted them.

"Welcome home, Mr Stark. Good afternoon, Miss Potts. May I say, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Tony was still grinning, but it was soon to fade when Pepper looked more sad and heartbroken than impressed. "Oh Tony," she sighed, looking at him as though he needed to be pitied. "This isn't healthy."

"Ignore her, JARVIS. Mean people are mean." If anything, at the confirmation of the name, she looked ready to cry. "It's an acronym," he said, daring her to say otherwise. "Stands for Just a Rather Very Intelligent System - which was me being modest, I'll have you know, because he's fucking amazing."

"Thank you, Sir."

Tony had an expression that clearly read 'see? see how smart he is? isn't he amazing?' Pepper didn't seem to agree. Flapping his hand at her, he made his way to the kitchen, stepping widely around a hunk of rubble. "Genius is never appreciated."

Tony actually heard Pepper swallow. "Is this what you've been doing since you moved out here?"

"Oh, so now she's interested," Tony muttered to himself, pouring a drink; he looked up, wiggled the bottle at her and then rolled his eyes at the disapproving look he got in answer. "Does it matter what I've been doing? Obie wasn't complaining when I fired across the new OS System for SI. That came from making JARVIS, y'know."

"You need to speak to someone. I can have an appointment arranged for tomorrow. They'll be discreet."

"You're hilarious. No."

"Tony."

"Don't 'Tony' me. I don't need to speak to someone. Anyone. Anyone," he repeated, corrected, confirmed, tipping his glass at her. "I'm fine."

"You've built a computer program that has same name as, and sounds suspiciously like, your recently deceased butler."

"He wasn't a butler." Tony's voice was sharp and Pepper bit her lip. "I really wish people would stop calling him that. And before you ask, no. I don't know what he was. He was unquantifiable."

"I understand, I do, but Tony… You've got to see how this isn't healthy."

"No," Tony was smiling, though it was completely devoid of humor; he shook his finger at her, his other hand tight around the glass he was holding. "You don't understand. I get it, it's fine, it's not your fault. But you knew Jarvis for less than a year. I've known him since before I can ever remember. And I'm not, I'm not saying that it didn't upset you, I'm not dismissing your grief, I'm not doing any of that. I'm just telling you. The man who died wasn't just our butler. I don't care what he was hired as, he wasn't just anything. And sure, okay, I'll give you a point," he was rambling, his heartbeat palpable at the back of his throat, but he had to get this out. "Maybe this isn't the healthiest thing I've ever done. And?" He stared at her, waiting for something. "C'mon, Pep; and?"

She sighed, shaking her head softly, sadly. "I don't know what you want from me."

"Exactly," Tony breathed. "That's exactly it; and what. I was upset, so I built, I created and now I'm good. I'm fine. People deal in grief different ways, isn't that what people say? This is how I dealt with mine. And out of it has come something fucking amazing, Pepper. Don't piss on my bonfire just because of where it came from."

Pepper was silent for a long moment before she was sighing, shifting her stance and then walking over to the breakfast bar, where she proceeded to dump her purse. She leant over and wiggled her fingers; Tony, a little confused, frowned and passed her the bottle she was eyeing up. "It's your birthday." She caught Tony fighting back a smile. "We're going to go out. If you insist on drinking, you won't be drinking alone. You need some social interaction. Pass me a glass please, Tony."

That night, they got absolutely, totally rip-roaringly drunk.

Tony may or may not have left Rhodey a drunken voicemail.

Tony was pretty sure at some point in the night, Pepper ended up wrapped around a stripper pole (or had it been a street lamp that she'd just worked?)

(It was one of his best birthdays to date.)

Tony finishes his Masters in Electrical Engineering and Physics, at the grand age of nineteen, scoring full marks even though for at least a year he did absolutely fuck all. He takes his spot at Stark Industries, Obie leading him through the (frankly, boring) ropes and forcing him to go to meetings ("You might not be running the company yet, Tony, but you're still a majority shareholder. Your opinion is important.") when all he wanted to do was actually engineer. Well, that and live the sort of rich white boy life people expected him to. Fast cars, loose women and their morals; drink, drugs and rock'n'roll, baby.

What's the point in keeping a promise to a dead man anyway? (Tony hates himself for the thought.)

He stumbles out of a club one night, waves off the bouncers, and heads down the street; it's only when he's halfway down the road that he wonders where the pretty little brunette had got to and why the fuck he was outside. He had no recollection of even leaving the club. It was after he'd pulled his wallet out, squinting down at the notes to try and make sense of them (because, yeah, he really needed a cab right now), when two thugs jumped him. One of them dragged him backwards, a thick arm solid around his throat, whilst the other snatched his wallet out of his fingers. "Hey! That, that s'mine."

Tony got a punch to his gut for the trouble. "Check his pockets."

"Or, yanno, don't," Tony slurred, struggling in Thug #1's hold.

Thug #2 pressed something very shiny, very cold and very sharp against his throat. "Keep still." Tony could feel his other hand digging in his pockets.

"Yeah, see, that's a great idea," Tony rambled, waiting for him to pull out his phone and get distracted with it, "but no thanks." He had to push himself up onto his toes as he knocked his head back, but it was worth it to hear the sound of Thug #1's nose breaking. He curled his hand into a fist, pulled his shoulder back, and clocked #2 across his face.

And then promptly yelped when he felt his thumb snap.

"You little prick!"

They were both upon him; kicking, punching and Tony curled up on the floor, high and dropping fast, arms covering his head as they laid into him. Until, well, they weren't. Rolling over onto his back with a groan, he turned his head in time to see someone else knock one of them out with a punch; the crack of it was awfully loud in the alley.

"They, they have m'wallet," Tony muttered, forcing himself to sit up, wincing as his ribs rebelled. He spat out a mouthful of blood. "And m'phone."

The newcomer found them both easily enough and from one blink to the next, he was kneeling down in front of Tony, holding them out. "Are you okay?"

Tony squinted until there was only one man in front of him. "S'who're you then? Some, some vigilante nut job?"

The man grinned. Tony thought he had a very friendly smile. "My name is Happy Hogan."

"Happy?" Tony snorted as he laughed, his nose whistling and his chest aching but seriously, Happy? "What, where you con…conceived at Woodstock or somethin'?"

"My real name is Harold. Yeah," he added, when Tony pulled a face. "That's why I go by Happy."

"Well, Happy. Help me up." He wiggled his fingers at him. Happy did, looking over Tony once he was to his feet, staying close by in case his legs decided they didn't want to hold him up anymore. "Nice punch, by the way. I broke m'fuckin' thumb tryin' to hit him. Y'must have hands of steel."

"Or I just know how to punch properly." He tossed Tony a smile. "Ex-Professional Boxer. You might want to take some lessons if you're planning on getting into any more fights."

"Yeah? Y'offering? 'cause last time in a fight, I headbutted someone. Think I did that wrong as well. Can you do that in boxing?"

"It's called dirty boxing, so that would be a no."

"Shame. Real shame." Tony blinked blearily up at Happy. "Y'full of knowledge. Y'could teach me, yeah?"

"I was notorious for actually losing the fights. Hence the ex part of boxer."

Tony waved a hand, leaning against Happy. "You just knocked those two out clean. That's good enough f'me. So whatcha say? Fancy a job?"

Happy laughed, more surprised than anything, looking down at Tony as he helped him out of the alley and out onto the street. "I don't even know who you are."

"Tony Stark, hi, hello, nice t'meet you."

"Huh." Nothing more was said on who he was and Tony was kind of impressed. "Here, get in. I'll take you to the hospital."

Tony slumped into the backseat of Happy's car without complaint. "So, yeah, no, the job? I was bein' serious." His ribs really were hurting now. "Y'could be my bodyguard. Pepper's been sayin' I should get one for ages now; she's gunna be so smug at being proven right."

"Ask me when you're sober."

Happy caught Tony's eye in the rear-view mirror and Tony grinned, even if his split lip complained. "Alright, deal."

It turned out he had a hairline fracture on his rib, a broken nose (although, Tony didn't really need a medical person to point that out to him), a broken thumb (self-inflicted) and other than being a big giant bruise, he was okay.

Happy was there when he woke up, Pepper asleep in the chair next to his bed, and the first thing he asked him was, "So, when can y'start?"

Happy's reply was gold. "Last night, boss. I expect back pay."

Tony laughed, one arm curled around his chest, thoroughly amused. "You're already getting a bonus."

Pepper loves Happy, alternating her time between scolding Tony and gushing out thank yous until Tony had broken it off with a sulky, "Why don't you both just get a room already?"

Happy went pink. Pepper rounded on him, hip cocked to the side and answered smoothly, "Maybe we will," lifting up one shoulder up in a shrug, she turned and left Tony and Happy alone.

"She's…"

"Hot, yeah, I know," Tony cut in. "That's my eye candy. Go find your own."

Throughout the months, Happy settles in until it gets to the point where Tony doesn't remember a time that Happy hadn't been there.

Tony's hungover and he's working down in his workshop; he'd given Pepper and Happy the week off - they deserved it after the gruelling week he'd put them both through in New York as they scrambled to win the Military Contract. They, of course, won it but it had been a hell of a week. The fact that their biggest rival had been Hammer Industries really just made Tony laugh.

"Sir?" JARVIS' voice came over the speakers and Tony didn't even pause, wires deep into a consol he was creating to project holographic images of whatever he was working on. It would come in handy for designing weapons but more importantly, it would look really fucking cool. "Yeah buddy?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Mmmhmm, shoot."

"It is of a personal nature."

"JARVIS," Tony's voice was deadpan, a handful of wires in his hand, he looked up briefly to the nearest camera, expression flat, "you watch me take a piss every time I go to the bathroom, I think we've already crossed the personal line. You've got a question? Ask."

"I have already determined that you created me using Mr Edwin Jarvis' personality as my baseline. What I cannot understand is why."

"Huh." Tony fiddled with what he was doing. "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"Since your conversation with Miss Potts."

"On my birthday?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Fair enough." Grabbing a rag, he wiped his hands, for a lack of anything else to do. "Does it bother you?"

"No, Sir."

"But you still wanna know." The question was rhetorical and JARVIS didn't say anything. "Yeah, alright. I get that." Leaning over, he grabbed his coffee mug and downed half of it in one go, ignoring the fact that it was cold. It took a while to find the right words. "When Jarvis died, I was a mess and doing something to honor his memory seemed like the best thing to do to celebrate his life." Here, Tony snorted, shaking his head, a self-deprecating grin taking over his mouth. "Actually, that's mostly bullshit. I was a lonely drunken mess and I created you because I missed him."

"He was very dear to you, Sir?"

Tony's grin turned a little sad. "Yeah, Jarv. And I was very dear to him."

"I believe I understand now."

"Yeah?" Tony paused in going headfirst back into the consol he was working on. "You know you and Jarvis are two different things, right? I programmed you to learn, to have personality. You're already your own person and you've only been online a little over a year; fuck knows what you'll learn in the next ten, twenty years. I still love you though, J. You don't have to be the original or a copy of the original Jarvis for that."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Anytime, J." Tony winked at the nearest camera before going back to what he'd been doing originally. "Anytime."

"Did you know," Tony says a few days later, shimmying through the workshop doors when JARVIS didn't open them quickly enough for his liking. He was carrying a single cupcake with a candle in it. "That you are like the Queen?"

"I fail to see how, Sir," comes JARVIS' bland reply.

JARVIS has only been online for nearly a year and Tony looks up to the ceiling and grins brightly. "You have two birthdays!"

"You are referring to Mr Edwin Jarvis."

"That I am," Tony replies happily, scooping down to pick up a bottle of whiskey. He wiggles it up at the camera he can hear focusing in on him. "And seeing how you're named for him and your original code came from him, it only seems right you get to suffer the perks for it. Also," Tony adds, pouring the whiskey into two glasses, "it saves me from sitting at the cemetery looking like a sad sack of shit."

"I am honored, Sir."

"Hey! DUM-E, pass me the blowtorch. What? No, does that look like a blowtorch? Put that down. Yes. That. Bring it here. Gimme." Tony makes little grabby motions and takes it off him once DUM-E has wheeled over; he lights the candle on the cupcake. "This is a bit of a tradition. Welcome to it. Happy Birthday, Jarvis." Tony clinks his glass against the other and tips it back in one mouthful and JARVIS knows Tony doesn't mean him. Tony finishes the other glass and, as the night wears on, eventually the bottle too.

Come morning, JARVIS doesn't mention the tears. (He never does.)

When Obadiah finally comes to see Tony's house in Malibu, he's nearly twenty; the place has finally been renovated to Tony's satisfaction for now, JARVIS has full control of his house, his life and he's the primary person he seeks out. Rhodey, when he'd been introduced, had merely raised a brow and maybe Pepper had warned him, but he didn't say anything more on the matter.

"I was starting to think you didn't like me anymore," Tony teased, opening the door to Obie, JARVIS having told him that 'Mr Stane' was pulling into his drive. "You never write, you never call…"

"You know how busy we've been since we won that contract, Tony." Obie pulled Tony in for a brief hug, a large hand clapping his back. "So where's this AI you've done nothing but talk about for the last two years?"

Tony threw his arms out wide once he was released and grinned as JARVIS spoke. "Good afternoon, Mr Stane."

Obie looked suitably impressed. "Voice recognition?"

"And facial. I'm working on a biometric scanner for him, aren't I, Jarv?"

"Indeed, Sir."

"Gotta look after my baby," Tony shrugged, gesturing to the kitchen and smiling when Obie nodded. Obie didn't care what time of the day it was; he was always up for a drink. "He runs the house, my calendar. Everything, really. I'm working on having him on my phone for when I leave the house, but I keep hitting a snag. I'll get there."

"Failsafe?" Obie asked, waving a hand when Tony went to put an ice cube in his drink.

Ice cube abandoned, Tony pushed Obie's drink over to him. "Well obviously, I'm not a moron. But JARVIS isn't gunna go and try take over the world, it's not in his programming. It's not who he is. But yes, yes, there's a failsafe," he was quick to add when Obie gave him a look. "It'd shut him down, suspend him, open up his code so I could go in a fix whatever caused him to go screwy in the first place. It's hidden down past his base code, JARVIS couldn't go in and remove it even if he wanted to, before you ask."

Obie narrowed his eyes briefly in thought. "You've made him sentient, haven't you?"

"Ooo well done you," Tony crooned, tipping his glass to him. "You're the only one who's made that jump. I knew you were my favorite for a reason."

"And that's the reason you won't market it."

"Him," Tony corrected, pointing at Obie. "That's why I won't market him. Don't you roll your eyes at me, Mr CEO, I'm being serious. How would you like to be called it?"

"I've been called worse," Obie deadpanned, though there was the briefest flashes of a smile. "Show me your failsafe. Just in case something happens to you, Tony and you can't."

"Nothing will happen to me. I've told you, JARVIS isn't like that."

"Tony. I worry enough about you as it is, just give me this."

Tony rolled his eyes again and muttered something under his breath before he was moving. "C'mon then. Workshop." Obie clasped his shoulder and walked down with Tony, by his side.

The week Tony turns twenty-one, there's an awful lot of fanfare. There's contracts to sign, positions to take up, pictures to pose for, and the inevitable temporary relocation back to New York; it's not all bad, as by this time he's got Jarvis in his pocket, who's still linked up to the Malibu house and it'll only be a hop skip and jump until Tony's figured out how to have Jarvis everywhere that he needs him.

"So, Anthony," the pretty blonde says - Donna, Doreen, D-something - crossing her legs, hooking her foot behind her ankle and leaning forwards a little. Tony cuts her off with a smile that feels too tight.

"Call me Tony."

"Tony," she corrects, biting her bottom lip as she smiles. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me today."

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face," Tony grins, tilting his sunglasses down to peer over them at her. He sees Pepper face palming to the side. Pushing his glasses back up, he leans back into his chair; you had to love live airings. "What can I do you for?"

From the blush on her cheeks, Tony could guess what she'd like him to do for her. "It's been a very busy week for you, hasn't it? Becoming the CEO of Stark Industries?"

"I've had busier weeks in college."

That earns a polite laugh. "There's been talk that you're not ready for the role." She uncrossed her legs before re-crossing them in the opposite way. "What would you say to that?"

"That those saying that are stupid? No?" he adds, looking over to Pepper who looks like she'd like to punch him in the face. "No, right then. Okay, so. What would I say to that? I'd say…" he rolled his hand in the air. "People are entitled to their own opinions. I look forward to the day I prove them wrong."

"And what do you think?" she asked now, leaning forwards a little bit. "Do you think you're ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Are you not worried?" She tilted her head at him and from that angle he could see the freckles dusted over her nose that her makeup hadn't quite covered up. "You've got very big shoes to fill."

"That depends on who's shoes you're talking about. Obie's like a size twelve but my dad was like a ten. I'm a nine, in case you were wondering. But I'm about 5'8" and Obie's like, a giant," he could see Pepper out of the corner of his eye signalling for him to shut the fuck up, slashing her hand across her throat and looking furious, but he was on a roll now. "6'1"? Dad was roughly 5'10" and I'd look ridiculous with big feet anyway. Just don't believe what you hear about big feet being a direct correlation to other things."

The fuzzy mic hovering over his head absolutely picked up Pepper's groan. He smiled at Debra (Danielle? Daphne?).

Darlene's smile was sharp. "Do you see this as a joke?"

"No ma'am, I do not. I thought this was an informal interview? Isn't that why I'm wearing sneakers? Right." Tony shifted in his chair, sitting up a little taller. "You were talking about shoes to fill? I mean, yeah, sure, I guess. But I was raised knowing that this is what I'd end up doing. So… sorry for not seeing it as such a big deal as everyone else, I guess. Am I intimidated? Not really." He shrugged, looking vaguely apologetic. "I've been designing things for SI since I was twelve. And I've got Obie, who's done a frankly amazing job of running things. What's there to be intimidated about?"

"Will Obadiah Stane still play a role in Stark Industries?"

"Absolutely he will. That man has a head for figures, let me tell you."

"He was a friend of your fathers, Howard Stark?"

"Yep," Tony popped the 'p' and was glad for the sunglass; they covered up the fact that he was currently rolling his eyes. He could show his ass in Times Square and still they'd bring up his dad.

"What do you think your father would say to the press that you receive?"

"He'd be pleased that we're continuing what he originally started; winning the newest military contract ensured that."

"That's not the press I was referring to."

"Oh I know," Tony replied, mouth curling into a smile. He leant back into his chair and kicked his foot up to rest on his knee. "Y'know, it's almost like everyone's forgotten the fact that he was a bit of sleaze when he was my age - oh c'mon, don't look at me like that. Yeah, okay, he invented a great deal of things but that doesn't mean he didn't play the field before he and mom got married. What's so wrong about saying it out loud? Why is it such a crime to have a bit of fun? The only difference to me and anyone else doing it, is that apparently when I have sex it's newsworthy. I'm starting to get the feeling I should write in whenever I jack-off if when I have an orgasm it's headliner material. Wait." Tony lowered his sunglasses, meeting the horrified eyes of Debbie. "Can I say things like that on live television?"

She just stared at him. "Thank you for that, Tony. We're just going to quick break now. When we come back, I'll be speaking to Obadiah Stane who'll be telling us what's next for him and Stark Industries."

The little red light clicked off and all Tony heard as warning was Pepper's heels on the floor before he was being smacked upside down his head. He yelped.

"Jesus fuck, what was that for? I thought I did good. Didn't I do good?" he asked Diana, rubbing his head. She ignored him as someone tottered over to powder her nose; someone else came over to him and started to take his mic off. He gave Pepper an unimpressed look as he plucked his fallen sunglasses out of his lap. "I didn't drop the f-bomb."

"Oh no, you just casually talked about masturbation to the whole of America."

"Pep." Tony gave her such a look. "Everyone does it. It's like the book. 'Everyone Poops'. Everyone gets themselves off. Anyone who says they don't? They're lying." Standing now that he was de-wired, he left the raised platform that acted as a stage, Pepper following besides him; he pulled his phone out and pulled up JARVIS. "Jarv, public opinion on my little interview here."

JARVIS' voice came out of the speakers, sounding a little tinny. He needed to fix that. "Public opinion seems mostly positive, Sir. Surprisingly." Tony grinned at Pep and only just stopped himself from crowing, 'ha ha, told you'.

"Mostly," Pepper stressed, seemingly having heard his crowing anyway. "We'll have to see what the morning brings. Speaking of, you have a meeting with the Head of Finance, Jeffries Windsor, first thing. Please be on time."

"Sure thing, Pep."

They both knew he wouldn't be.

Becoming the head of a Fortune 500 company wasn't a walk in the park, but with Obie on one side and Pepper on the other, they were a formidable team. So Tony may've spent more time in clubs than in meetings, but he kept churning out design after design and everyone was happy. Their profits skyrocketed and Stark Industries soared. Interviews and photoshoots, with makeup artists to hide the dark circles underneath Tony's eyes and alcohol on hand to hide the trembling of his hands.

Tony loved what he did; designing. To make an idea into reality, splitting his time between SI, keeping JARVIS ahead of the game, and boozy nights with early mornings. He just had to keep himself from thinking what, exactly, his designs could do.

Merchant of Death. One of his catchier monikers.

Imagine, being twenty-three and already being known as mass murder.

He was cavalier in front of cameras when asked if it bothered him. It didn't bother him simply because he didn't think about it. He didn't think about the fact that day in, day out, he would sit and think and design and build something with the intention to end someone's life. The best way, the quickest way, the smartest way, to end someone's life. 'Bad guys' or not, he was still designing weapons with the intent to destroy.

That was why he came up with something that was hand-held, non-lethal that would just temporarily disable someone, render them incapable of fighting back long enough to detained. Obie had seemed excited, but it was disapproved by the government and never endorsed for production.

The first time Tony's arrested, it's for drunk driving, less than five hours after they were refused funding for the Sonic Taser. His mugshot ends up splashed across the news but he's rich and famous and honestly? Pepper's scolding was worse than his punishment.

Rhodey calls him the same night his bail gets posted.

"S'up Sugarplum? Aren't you off saving the world right now?"

"No, right now I'm calling you to see what the hell you think you're doing."

"I literally have no idea what you mean. I'm in the car with Happy. Hey, Happy. Say hi! It's Rhodey."

Happy grunts from behind the wheel and right then, clearly he wasn't a fan of Tony right now.

"No idea, huh? So you have no idea why your mugshot is all over the Internet?"

"None at all. But, can I just say, don't judge me by that picture. Orange isn't my colour. Like, at all."

"Tony." Rhodey's sigh is all static down the line. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Tony says back but it's sharp and bitter and he can see Happy looking at him through the rear view mirror. He clears his throat. "Look, Chocolate Bear, shit happens, right? Water under the bridge? I'm running out of metaphors here, buddy. You get the drift, right?"

"Tony."

"I gotta go, alright, Rhodey? We're pulling up to the house. Don't worry about it. I'm heading back to Malibu tomorrow. Won't happen again, yeah? That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it? Great talk!" Tony disconnected the call, slumping back into the leather of the seat. "I can feel you judging me, Happy. Stop."

"Uh huh, sure thing, Boss."

The second and third time he's arrested, it's because of drugs.

If you were to ask Tony why, he wouldn't be able to give an answer. He'd sometimes find himself in bed for days, pulling the covers up and over his head when JARVIS would wake him up with his run down of the weather, stocks, emails, projects awaiting attention and Tony just couldn't. JARVIS would know when it was one of those days and, without a word, would simply black out the windows once more. Tony's, "Thanks, Jarv," always sounded a little choked.

When he doesn't feel like just curling up into a ball, he's Tony Stark, the life of the room, and he makes sure he fills every corner until there's nothing left for himself. And it's great, it's fantastic. He loves every moment. He drinks and he snorts and he fucks and in those moments, he's connected with someone, everyone, and it's glorious. The world is at his fingertips and he works them to the bone; inventing, schmoozing, laughing louder than anyone else.

There's videos of him online stripping, fucking, falling over his own feet and laughing hysterically. One video shows him quite enthusiastically kissing some tall, broad shouldered jock and when he pulls away, Tony grins, tapping him on his cheek, his words slurred, "No homo, you get it right?" He'd found it so utterly hilarious, big, blond and broad had to keep him upright, least he fall on his ass. Tony likes to think no one can hear the hysterical edge to his laughter. There's photos of him showing his ass to the Captain America statue that had been erected in Brooklyn, pictures of him smiling too brightly with a glass in his hand and sunglasses halfway down his nose.

JARVIS doesn't speak to him after the times he's arrested for drug related charges, even though he responds to Tony's voice commands and brings up specs when demanded of him. "You know I can go in and rewrite you," Tony comments one day, a wrench in his hands and a motorcycle engine at his feet. JARVIS does not reply but it's only been a day since he was released; if he were to go by how long it took JARVIS to be his friend again after the first time, he still has two days of agonising silence ahead of him. "Remove the prudish bit of you that I damn well know I didn't program in? You know that right?" JARVIS doesn't respond and Tony doesn't edit his code.

And sometimes SI's points dipped but they always came right back up when Tony's latest invention hits the market; they weren't all just about weapons, with mobile phones, health innovations, computers and whatever else Tony's brain had decided to fixate on that day, following in their wake.

The fourth time he's arrested, twenty-six and cocksure, he OD's in the back of the cop car.

He wakes up in hospital and asks who's been dancing on his chest because holy fuck. It hurt. Pepper's there and her eyes are a little red, but she's wearing an expression that tells Tony if he jokingly points it out, she'll hurt him. Rhodey's there too and Obie and Happy and Tony groans. "Please tell me this isn't some come to Jesus meeting. All we need is JARVIS and you've got yourself a family intervention."

"I am here, Sir," comes JARVIS' voice from his phone on the side.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

There's a lot of shouting, two appearances from two different nurses asking them to keep it down and it ends with Tony clenching his jaw and refusing to look at any of them; JARVIS had been muted long ago after Tony had launched the phone at the wall. Pepper leaves with Obie and Obie warns him that the Board can't ignore this anymore; Happy jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the door, telling Tony he'll just be outside if he needs anything.

Rhodey looks at him like Tony's disappointment personified. "I was there when you promised Jarvis that you wouldn't do this again, Tony. Back when we graduated?" Rhodey knelt down and picked up Tony's phone that he'd thrown across the room; the screen was a little cracked, but it was all in working order. He put it on Tony's pillow before leaving. "I'm glad he's not here to watch you destroy yourself."

Tony would have rather Rhodey punch him. Screwing his eyes closed, he rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball, his whispered, "Unmute," being followed by a small click. "J? Buddy… I know you're pissed at me right now, but if you could just, just talk, about anything, I don't care. That'd be, fuck, that'd be really good right now."

There was a long, long moment and Tony thought that this was it, he'd finally pushed everyone away and the moment JARVIS' voice came through the speakers, he felt like he could cry in relief. "Your heart stopped beating for approximately one hundred and four seconds, Sir."

"I'm sorry."

"There are currently no protocols in place for what I am to do if you die, Sir."

Tony wrapped his fingers around his phone, brushing his thumb across the crack in the screen. "I'll fix that, Jarv. Soon as I'm outta here. I'll fix you, I promise."

"If I may, Sir. I am inclined to agree with Major Rhodes on your ability to keep such promises."

Tony inhaled sharply. "I'll fix you."

"I would much prefer for you to fix yourself."

Tony laughed softly and it was a broken sound. "Yeah, me too, buddy. Me too."

Apparently, overdosing is a big enough deal to hold a Board of Directors' meeting. The sound of Tony's fingers drumming on the table is loud in the silence; he feels wrung out, pulled in several directions all at once and all he wants to do is have a drink and go to fucking sleep. "I'm sorry, how much did we lose last quarter because of my 'antics'?" Tony tilts his head, pretending to listen and looks suitably mocked surprised when no one answers him. "I'm not hearing anything. Is it because we didn't? You mean to say what I do doesn't actually negatively impact the company? Well. Imagine that. Color me fucking surprised right there."

"Tony." Obie speaks and his words sound heavy. "This just isn't The Board's decision. You've been court ordered to go. Yes," Obie stresses as Tony shakes his head, "and you're going. Thirty days, Tony. That's all. Thirty days and we'll check you into the best place out there, alright? You can have all the electronics you want, but you actually have to participate. You can't continue on like this."

When it all comes down to it, he has to go. He makes sure he upgrades JARVIS, just like he'd promised, leaving his little handmade family with a forcefully chirper, "Daddy's going way for a few days, boys. Try to behave yourselves for Uncle JARVIS, yeah?" DUM-E tilts his camera at Tony curiously and no one but JARVIS sees him give them all a brief hug before leaving the workshop.

Withdrawal is a bitch and for the first two weeks, Tony finds himself slumped over the toilet, sweating and unable to sleep, blankets twisted around his feet, the sound of his heartbeat fast and hot against his chest. And still he's expected to get up every morning at five thirty ready for fucking tai-chi at six. He's irritable and mean, on edge like he couldn't ever remember being and why the hell he wasn't allowed a drink when he was in here for narcotics was beyond him. He couldn't even get a damn cup of coffee.

Phone and laptop time was limited and Tony emailed Obie a long, rambling email calling him a fucking liar, amongst other things.

There was group therapy, doctor's appointment, a therapist, a family therapist, a shrink and it was all a little overkill in Tony's opinion and really, he thought it cute that they thought he'd talk to them about anything real. Real cute.

Any time he's allowed on his computer, he pulls up JARVIS and types, just because it's easier that way. There's no questions as to who he's talking to and nothing to overhear.

T: How long have I got left of this sentence, J?

 **J: One day less than yesterday, Sir.**

 **J: That would make it ten days.**

T: You're hilarious. How's the kids?

 **J: U set fire to your cot. DUM-E put the flames out.**

 **J: I believe Butterfingers filmed it for you, Sir.**

T: I knew I should have just put them into hibernate.

T: How's Pepper?

 **J: Miss Potts is currently away with Mr Stane in regards to a potential merger.** T: That didn't answer my question, buddy.

 **J: She appears sad, Sir.**

Tony looked away from the screen, running a hand down his face. When he looks back, JARVIS has left another message for him.

 **J: But pleased that you have finally sought help.**

 **J: As forced as it was, Sir.**

T: I live to disappoint.  
 **J: Pity is far from becoming on you, if I may say so.**

That makes Tony laugh and he's half-tempted to hug his laptop.

T: No you may not.

T: You're inexcusably rude to me, you know that, don't you?

 **J: My vast apologies, Sir.**

T: Bullshit.

T: I can hear your sarcasm even through text.

 **J: That is quite the skill.**

T: Don't underestimate the mind of a genius, JARVIS.

 **J: When you introduce me to one, I shall endeavor to not make that mistake.**

Tony might not say it enough, but he really, really fucking loves JARVIS.

T: You are one sarcastic son of a bitch.

 **J: May I remind you that you created me, Sir?**

T: … Are you calling me a bitch?

 **J: I believe they were your words, Sir. Not mine.**

T: You are so going to get it.

T: But not right now. It's lights out. Can you believe we have a bedtime?

T: Like I'm fucking six again.

 **J: As you have ended our previous conversations with a variation of the above, yes, Sir. I can believe it.**

T: I miss you, J.

 **J: I have calculated the probability of your ability to stay clean, Sir. They are favorable, providing you have the correct support.**

T: I think people have put up wit h enough shit from me to last a lifetime. This is all on me now.

 **J: You will always have me, Sir.**

T: You say the kindest things.  
T: Night, J. Be good. I'll be home soon.

Tony logs off and throws himself back onto the bed, feeling tired but unable to sleep.

When Tony does finally get out, the paparazzi greets him outside and Happy herds him into the car, and the grin Tony's plastered on is quick to fade once they're inside. He'd thought that once his stint was over and done with, that would be the end of it. Like, oh look, I use to snort cocaine off the breasts of supermodels, I went to rehab for a bit and now I don't. Pepper isn't impressed that one of the first things Tony does when he gets out is pour himself a drink and let out the most obscene noise as he drinks it. She pursed her mouth when Tony points out that, technically, he was in there for drugs, not drink, thank you very much.

But no. He still has days, for some reason, where he's irritable and tired, plagued with insomnia but with no enthusiasm or energy to keep himself occupied. He can get nasty for no reason and it can feel like he's back in that god forsaken place, wanting nothing more than a high because he knows, just like how he knows a great deal of things, that that would make everything okay again.

"What's the fucking point in going to rehab if it doesn't actually fix you," Tony snarled on one of his low days, clearing his worktable with a furious sweep of his arm. He threw a wrench at Butterfingers who was trying to pick up the mess he'd just made. "Hey! Leave that alone. If I wanted you to pick it up, I would've said so. How about you start doing as you're fucking told instead of dicking about when you're not wanted. Move. Go away."

"Sir."

"Don't you fucking 'Sir' me. He's getting in the way. He's always in the fucking way. They all are. All they do is destroy my shit and get under my damn feet. They're failed experiments and I should've melted them down long ago. Yeah, I'm talking about you too, DUM-E. Fucking useless, that's what you are."

"I insist that you calm down, Sir."

"Oh you insist, do you?" Tony's all manic energy, running on four days without sleep and not from lack of trying. He's sweaty, skin too tight and itching for a fight. "Tell me, what're you gunna do if I don't? You know what? Fuck this being clean bullshit."

All at once, the workshop is pitched into darkness. DUM-E, U and Butterfingers scramble to their charging stations, making sure to give Tony a wide berth and JARVIS' voice comes through the speakers, sounding mechanical in a way that he hadn't since he was first switched on. "Safety Protocol Sierra Papa Tango Sierra One Four Three initiated."

"Safety Protocol what?"

"Please wait."

"Wait? What the fuck am I waiting for?" His phone, that he'd pulled out to make the call, had gone dead and Tony shook it a few times, as though that was magically going to make it turn on again. "Override Code Alpha Kilo Six Two Echo Echo Oscar Nine Four Five Five Bravo. Cut the bullshit, JARVIS. This isn't cute."

"Override Code; not accepted. Please wait."

"Like fuck it's not accepted!" Tony hurled his useless phone at one of JARVIS' cameras. The dull green of the emergency lights bathed the workshop in a soft glow and with them, Tony spots his huge son of a bitch sledgehammer chilling out in the corner. He'd used it to smash through walls when building JARVIS. Tony stalks over to it.

The sound of several vents opening fill the room and Tony pauses, looking up, wide-eyed.

"It is advised that you do not attempt to leave."

"I'm moving real quick from pissed off to terrified, J. Just for the record here."

"Please wait."

Tony took a couple of backwards steps away from the sledgehammer and it was only when he sat down on the nearest stool that the vents closed and he was no longer in danger of being fucking tranq'd by his own AI. It's only ten minutes later when the doors whoosh open and Happy strolls in. By now, Tony has completely calmed down from his earlier breakdown but he's moved onto worry as JARVIS continued to ignore his questions.

"Hiya Boss."

"I think JARVIS is broke."

"Er… Override Code: Chocolate Frogs."

JARVIS says, "Override Code: accepted," the same time Tony blurts out, "Wait, what?" and all the lights wink back on.

Happy grins at him. "We may have worked with JARVIS to have a failsafe set in place for when you got out."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Sure am, Boss. Thing is," Happy added, pulling over a stool next to Tony and taking a seat, "it'd only activate if you were thinking of doing something stupid." Happy said nothing about Tony's lack of ability to look him in the eye. There's a long stretch of silence. "Here's the thing, and I'm sure you already know this, but I'm an alcoholic."

"I'm not an alcoholic," Tony is quick to deny, a spark of anger in his words.

"Pretty sure that's a discussion for another time, but anyway. This is about me right now, sorry." Happy gave Tony a pointed look; Tony cleared his throat and rolled his hand in the air for Happy to continue. "I do the whole AA thing, been sober now for over five years. Here's the kicker, though; I didn't do it on my own. I needed help. That's what sponsors are for."

"Yeah, no."

Happy grins a little, but it's sad. Tony is sick of making people wear that expression. "I get it. You don't want the potential scandal; you think you're a functioning addict. Well, sorry, but you're not." Tony didn't think Happy looked very sorry at all. "You need help. Someone who gets and understands that you have good days and you have bad days. So here I am."

"…You want to be my sponsor?"

"I'm with you all the time anyway. You already call me at any god-awful hour you want. What's the difference?" Happy shrugs. "At least this way I can try and prevent you from doing what you best; being an idiot."

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face. Maybe Happy was right. Tonight proved, if nothing else, that he was wholly ill equipped to deal with this on his own. Already the heavy feeling of guilt had settled into his gut; he would have to make it up to his bots. "You sure you're comfortable doing this? I've found I can get pretty testy. When the mood hits."

"I'm sure I'll survive. I've been thinking, I think it's about time I finally teach you how to box. What d'ya say?"

"Ready for a round now?"

"I'll meet you up there in five." Happy pushes himself to his feet, grins at Tony and leaves the workshop.

Tony buries his head in his hands. "JARVIS?"

"Sir." JARVIS' voice is clipped.

"Thank you."

"You are most welcome," JARVIS replies, sounding a little warmer. "The override code will be changed."

"See to it that it is." With a sigh, Tony pushes himself to his feet. "Let the kids know I'm sorry, yeah? I'll make it up to them."

"I'll ensure that you do, Sir."

Tony's smile is small, but grateful, as he leaves the workshop for the gym.

It takes just over a year for him to relapse.

It was a stupid idea to throw such a lavish party for his twenty-ninth birthday when he was still relatively new to a party scene that didn't come with little favors.

Tony doesn't let the fact that he no longer does drugs deter him from going out and having a good time, though he makes sure to run with a different crowd. Obie manages SI and Pepper takes care of everything else in his life (he didn't know what he'd do without her some days) and he's got Happy for those days when it's all a little too much, long sessions spent inside the ring until the feeling is a little more bearable. There's still days where he can't get out of bed, when he just needs time to recharge his batteries before he can face the world once more and be what they expect.

It's all business as usual to begin with; a pretty little red head is playfully tugging him by his tie towards the lifts, wrapping a leg around him when her back hits the mirrored walls and pulling him down for a frankly filthy kiss. Happy coughs, pressing the button to Tony's floor, but having seen far worse, he doesn't actually say anything. Once they stumble into his suite, she pulls away, her lipstick smeared and looking utterly debauched. "Let me just go and freshen up." Tony watches the sway of her ass as she walks away.

"I would seriously suggest you stand outside, Hap." Tony says, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it onto the settee. Mistake Number One: his phone, ergo JARVIS, is in that jacket.

"You sure boss?"

"Oh I'm fucking positive. You don't need to be around listening to this. Go back down, enjoy the party. I'm not planning on being able to move until morning."

Happy gives him quite the look, but leaves the room all the same. Mistake Number Two; he always needed someone watching what he did, because he's a fucking moron who can't be trusted.

Closing the doors to the bedroom, the girl is all smiles for him, her dress having vanished somewhere between the bathroom and bedroom, but she's still got her heels on and she pats the bed next to where she's sat and well, it'd be rude to not go join her.

"Do you mind?" she says, pulling away from the kiss and it takes Tony's a brain a minute to catch up because what? It's then that he sees the little baggie she's holding up with her thumb and forefinger. She wiggles it a little. "Would you like some?"

"I… how did you get that past Happy? I know he patted you down."

"Oh he did," she replies, unconcerned, opening the bag and using her fingernail to scoop a mound out; Tony watches as she snorts it and she smiles at him, leaning in close to press a line of kisses down his throat. "That's why it was hidden."

"I'm rather torn between being grossed out and a little turned on, I've got to be honest here." He's looking for his jacket even when she bites down on his collarbone. All he needs to do is say the safeword and Happy will come barrelling in. You'd think this was his first rodeo. "Er, Caroline-"

"-Rebecca," she corrects, without scorn, wiggling down so she was lay on her back, hair fanning out over the pillow. She quirks one perfectly plucked brow at him.

"-Yeah, that. If we could just get back to doing what we were doing, that was good. More than good, actually."

"Would you like some?" she repeats and Tony can't help but to watch what she's doing with the baggie; she taps it out, moving it down her stomach and Tony watches the line grow longer. "I could make it more interesting," she says, making her little cocaine happy trail down her stomach, a little mountain forming in her belly button and she carries it on until it stops at her pubic bone.

"I can't."

"You use to be so fun at these parties," she sighed, breasts moving with the motion; she licks a finger and smears it across the top of the line she'd made before popping it into her mouth. Tony tracks every movement she made. "You've been so boring lately. Everyone says so."

"I was in rehab."

"Oh everyone goes to rehab. It's the new thing. You can go again."

"I shouldn't." Tony can feel his heart against his rib cage and there hadn't really been a moment that he'd thought whilst in rehab that he deserved to be there. Until now.

"You really should," she all but purrs at him and Tony can't remember the moment he leans down, covers one nostril with his thumb and inhales. Mistake Number Three; he'd thought he wasn't weak.

It hits him like a truck and he laughs, feeling looser than he had in weeks, the world unfurling for him at his feet. "Wow. Right. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that's, that's pretty good." He's pathetic. "God. I've missed this."

"Come here." She pulls him up her body by his hair, bites his lip and wipes her thumb under his nose; it comes away red. "Let me kiss you better."

It's one of the roughest and best times he can recall between the sheets.

It's only during the come down, when she's wrapped around the sheets and sleeping, that Tony staggers around the room for his clothes, leaves the bedroom and grabs his phone. "JARVIS call Happy."

"Boss? You good?"

"We need to leave. Like, now. I mean it, get the car."

"Hey, you alright?"

"I fucked up. Fuck. Fuck." The last fuck is more of a shout and Tony's trying to jam his foot into the wrong shoe. "You should keep me on a god damn fucking leash, I swear to god. Get the car. I need to leave. Right now. Because there's still half a bag in there and I'm so fucking tempted-"

Happy doesn't give him a chance to continue. "-I'll be right there as soon as you get outside."

Tony spends the ride back home curled up on the car seat, looking out of the window. Happy doesn't sugarcoat things for him, validating the fact that Tony had just fucked up (Happy called it a minor setback, but Tony sees it for what it really is) but adding that he did the right thing calling. Tony bites his nails, feeling jittery and Happy pats him down before letting Tony go and collect himself in the workshop.

"JARVIS?" he asks as soon as he steps into the workshop. He can speak to JARVIS anywhere, even over in New York now that he figured out a way to link him up (which, in the end, had been embarrassingly easy), but he always feels more comfortable down here, especially when there were others in the house. "Don't be pissed at me. I feel shit enough as it is."

"On the contrary, Sir. I am rather proud."

"Proud?" Tony snorts, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "Proud of me for ruining over a year's worth of work?"

"For calling for assistance upon realising you needed help."

"For someone so fucking smart, I'm a moron."

"Agreed, Sir."

Tony's smile is fledgling and he waves his hands over his consol. "Pull up the Jericho. I need to work out some of this anger on something."

The Jericho wasn't a labor of love; she was born from anger and resentment and Tony nursed her for years, throughout her infancy all the way to maturity. She was every fuck up, ever knock back, every stupid mistake, every failure, all rolled into sleek curves and deadly precision. She was unlike anything else Tony worked on; guns and bombs that would take a couple of months to figure out before being fired across to R&D, the Jericho was something that was years in the making and only something Tony brought out to play with when he needed focus for what would otherwise be self-destructive tendencies.

Tony grows a beard before he's even close to finishing the Jericho.

"Oh my God," Pepper said, covering her mouth with her hand. "You look ridiculous. Get rid of it."

"That's really mean," Tony replies, pointing at her and pouting. "I've wanted a manly beard since I hit puberty."

"You look like a homeless man."

"Now you're just being rude."

"Actually, you smell like a homeless man too."

"Slurs about my personal hygiene aside, the beard is staying." Tony petted it just to fuck with her.

"I am not taking you to a board meeting looking like that. Is there-is that motor oil in there?"

"Might be?" Tony shrugged, unconcerned. "I rigged it up so I could hide a screwdriver in here. Look." A little bit of rooting later and Tony eventually pulled out a mini screwdriver. "Tah dah! You have no idea how long I've waited to be able to hide shit in here."

"No. Absolutely not. That is not staying. How long have you been down here?"

Tony frowns, running his tongue over his bottom lip, but before he can reply, JARVIS pipes up. "Sir has failed to leave the workshop for the past seventy three hours, despite needing proper nutrition and sleep."

"Way to sell me out, buddy. I've been busy."

"You have been neglecting yourself and sulking, Sir. And Miss Potts is quite correct," JARVIS added and Tony tilts his head, curious. "The growth on your face is far from becoming."

"Growth?" Tony splutters. "It's a beard. C'mon guys. It doesn't look that bad. Does it really look that bad?"

"Yes," they both reply as one and Tony flips them both off before heading to the bathroom for a shower and a shave.

"JARVIS?" Pepper asks once the door to the bathroom slams shut and she thinks Tony can't hear her but he can. "Is Tony okay?"

"Sir is fine, Miss Potts. He is angry with himself. He believes himself to be weak."

Tony knows that JARVIS knows he's got his ear pressed to the door, listening, palms flat against the wood. He can't help but to snort at the word choice. He is weak. What kind of recovering druggie is he, really, when this is the third time he's fucked up? At least this time it's Pepper who Obie's sent to check up on him rather than Rhodey. Rhodey didn't need to be dealing with his shit. (Neither did Pepper, but at least she was paid for her time.)

(And, God, why had he thought going to see Tiberius Stone would end up any other way? Happy had even fucking warned him but he'd been so far up his own ass, so sure of himself, that he hadn't listened. He just loved dancing on the arrogance/ignorance line. In the weeks following it, he'd spent most of his time down in the workshop or working out his pent up anger either in the boxing ring or on the Jericho and wasn't that healthy?)

"He's listening, isn't he?"

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"JARVIS, YOU ARE SUCH A TATTLER!"

Tony might not be able to see Pepper, but he can hear the smile in her words. "Please let Mr Stark know that if I wanted to work with someone who was weak, I'd currently be at Hammer Industries. Can you also remind him he's got a meeting in forty minutes, so he really needs to move his ass."

"Do you need me to relay that to you, Sir?" Tony didn't reply and simply flipped JARVIS off before getting into the shower. "I believe he heard, Miss Potts."

Tony made sure he took his sweet time showering and shaving and when he emerged, clean and a little pink, he struck a pose and waited for Pepper to look up from where she was currently sat, typing on her phone, clipboard on her knees.

Pepper blinked. "Well, at least it's an improvement."

Tony is all smiles, towel low on his hips, as he rubs one hand against his chin. "I like it. JARVIS, don't I look all edgy and shit? I can pass this off at twenty-eight, right?"

"Sir, you're thirty-two."

"Don't you swear at me."

Pepper smiles down at her phone and JARVIS' reply is perfectly bland. "My apologies, Sir."

"Do we still have to go? I figure we're gunna be late as it. Forty minutes you said?"

"Oh I lied," Pepper sing-songed, standing, brushing down her pencil skirt. "Do you honestly think I tell you what time your meetings are? I stopped doing that two weeks in. We've got an hour until we need to be there; go get dressed."

"…Do we really have an hour?"

Pepper's smile is all sharp sweetness and she lifts a shoulder up in a shrug. "Now that would be telling."

"One day," Tony says, making his way out of the workshop, turning as he walked, so he was going backwards, pointing at her, "I am gunna marry you."

"There's no need for threats," Pepper rallies but she can't quite keep a lid on her smile, her lips twitching.

"Marry you!" Tony declared, spinning back around the right way, pumping his arm in the air as he left to get dressed.

It becomes one year, then two, then three until Tony feels like he's finally keeping his word to a dead man; with the years comes more inventions and innovations, with trips across the globe, girls in his bed and sometimes a daily battle to force himself out of bed because for all he was Tony Stark, he couldn't stop the world from turning. Rhodey becomes the gofer between Stark Industries and the military and Tony laughs hysterically the day Rhodey rocks at his Malibu home and tells him as much. "You're being paid," Tony says in between giggles, wiping at the moisture in his eyes, "literally being paid, to babysit me. You do know I've gone through, like, sixteen other gofers, right?"

"I'm not a gofer, I'm a liaison. Screw you."

"You're a glorified gofer. This is amazing. Ooo, look," Tony added, catching sight of the new badge, "they even promoted you to keep you sweet. JARVIS! Rhodey is now a Lieutenant Colonel, isn't that fancy?"

"Congratulations and commiserations are in order, I see, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes. In equal measure."

"Watch it, you. Or I might accidently lose you when I move you to the cloud."

"Perish the thought, Sir."

"So," Rhodey cut in, loudly, before Tony could go off on what he could do to JARVIS for his cheek, "feel like celebrating? I'm not due to go back out until the end of the week."

"Can I do a rain check, Honey Bear?"

"A rain check? What's going on? It's not like you to pass up a night out."

"Hold up, who said I'm passing up on a night out? I'm asking for a rain check, you know, as in, later. I'm already doing something tonight."

"Something or someone?" Rhodey deadpans, managing to sound both unamused and resigned to this fact.

"Well, ouch. Talk about a lack of faith here. Something. Like I said." Tony speaks as he pours them both a drink. "It's Jarvis' birthday," Tony adds, clearing his throat, attempting to come across indifferent. "JARVIS and I have a thing. Don't we, buddy?"

"Indeed."

Rhodey's brows are nearly at his hairline. "What kind of thing?"

"My my, you're a nosy fucker, ain'tcha? It's nothing exciting. There's a cake, scotch and we watch It's a Wonderful Life - don't give me that look, I can't account for Jarvis' tastes."

"And what? You can't invite me?"

Tony gives him the once over. "I lied. It's not a cake. It's a cupcake. I don't share food. It's mine."

"Only child syndrome, yeah, I know," Rhodey quips and Tony melts a little. "Seriously, am I gate-crashing this or can I get an actual invite?"

Tony knows if he told Rhodey to fuck off, he'd leave and never bring this up again. "Whatever, Sweet Cheeks. You can stay if JARVIS says you can stay."

"I have no objections, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes," JARVIS answers promptly when Rhodey looks up to the ceiling. The grin he gives Tony is only slightly smug.

"No bitching about being bored," Tony warns, pushing Rhodey's drink over to him. "And you're not getting any of my cupcake."

Tony doesn't give Rhodey any of the cupcake, but that's not to say that he didn't steal some anyway.

Tony's gift to Obie for his birthday is the Jericho. "Tony," Obie breathed, walking in a circle around the prototype Tony had made up in his workshop. "This is something else."

"Worth the trip to Malibu, huh?"

Obie hums and Tony preens. "So this is what you've been tinkering with over the years?"

"Yup," Tony pops the 'p', thumbs in the loops of his jeans. "She's the nastiest piece of work I've designed that's safe enough for production."

"She's beautiful."

"She needs a few in-field test runs before mass production can start, but we can start proposing her to the higher ups."

"You always give the best gifts, Tony, my boy," Obie says, pulling Tony in for a hug and Tony grins. "Happy Birthday to me."

"Sir?" JARVIS cuts in. "Mr Hogan is here with the limo."

"Limo?"

"Oh c'mon, as if the Jericho is your only birthday gift, Obie. Have more faith in me. We're going out. Strippers. Expensive, classy strippers who are all for happy endings. You feel me? Gambling," Tony adds when Obie doesn't look sold on the idea, before grinning and going in for the kill, "And really fucking good Cuban cigars. I know a guy."

Obie laughs, puts his arm around his shoulders and they leave.

"Look after the kids, J. Don't wait up!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir."

Watching the Jericho come to life, Tony's embodiment of hate, is something else completely; it's a work of art in all the wrong ways. The process is longer than usual, with Tony overseeing the whole process from start to finish and it's a year or so before she's perfect and Tony is happy with the outcome. She's smarter, deadlier, and quicker than anything proceeding her and the price tag attests to as much.

Rhodey is excited and Obie is already thinking what he can funnel the profits into and Tony watches the first time it's fired and thinks, 'I made this', and the fear he feels as it explodes swallows him whole, because that came from somewhere not-so-deep inside of him.

"We need to market the shit out of this," Tony says, shoving his hands in his trousers pocket.

"You need to showcase this, Tony," Obie replies, still looking out to the distance, eyes squinted behind his sunglasses as the dust sinks back to the ground.

"I was thinking about the Marketing Department, to be honest. Y'know, Marketing People to market the fuck out of it? Isn't that why I'm employing them? So they can, uh, market?"

"Something like this… it needs to be shown off. Shown in action, where it's needed most. She's your baby." Obie finally turns to look at him, peering over his sunglasses. "You should be there for her graduation."

"Actually, if we're going with Stark family tradition, I wo-"

"-Tony," Obie says, cutting him off with a single word. "They need to be bedazzled. Swept off their feet. Have them think their wants are actually needs." Obie smiles at him and it's all teeth. "They need showmanship. They need you."

Tony doesn't want to go. "Speak to Rhodey. See if he can get anything arranged, yeah?"

He gets the call two weeks later and it's all been arranged; from Malibu to Vegas for an award and then straight onto Afghanistan with Rhoedy, followed the next day with a visit to DC and New York before finally coming back to Malibu. Tony already has a headache thinking about it. Fuck knows how Pepper manages it.

"Alright, buddy," Tony says, phone on his lap and JARVIS connected up to his car. He chances a glance out of his mirror, sees Happy catching up, and floors the gas. "You know the signal's gunna be spotty out there, so here's what I need you to do whilst I'm gone, yeah?"

"As always, Sir, I am listening."

"Put the kids to sleep; I'm tired of U throwing a tantrum and setting shit on fire because I'm not there. Remind me to fix his coding, he's not meant to be so co-dependent."

"Logged, Sir. Will you ignore it like the previous eighty-six reminders to fix U's code?"

"Shut up, Sassy Pants. Alright, second thing," Tony leans into the bend of the road, tyres hugging the asphalt and he whoops, his hands tight around the wheel. "Alright, second thing," he repeats, "redirect all calls, emails and texts that aren't from Rhodey, Pepper or Obie. Yeah? Other than that, Jarv, you've got the run of the house."

"As per the norm then, Sir. You are also going almost double the speed limit on this road."

"Any cops ahead?"

"Unfortunately, there is not."

Tony grins and floors it. "Yeah, didn't think so. Right, nearly there. You be good, alright, J? Whatever Pepper, Obie and Happy want, you give it to them, yeah? Look after them."

"Of course."

Shifting gears, he slows the car right down and he can see his plane and a very pissed off looking Rhodey. "Have something nice sent to Rhodey, yeah, J? He looks pissed."

"Perhaps it may have something to do with how late you are running, Sir."

"Yeah, maybe." Tony's hand hovers over the keys. "Speak soon, buddy. I'll miss you over there. Next time you're coming with. Pinkie swear." Tony cuts the ignition and as he climbs out the car, his phone beeps; he looks down and grins at the message.

 **J: I will miss you too, Sir.**

 **End Notes:**

A lot of 'research' went into this fic: I googled American school grades and AP classes in high school and everything. I really do mean I googled everything: 'what do Americans call a tea towel', 'do Americans call it tea or dinner', 'do Americans use hot water bottles'. So if you see something British in there (I even tried doing the spelling and that hurt) do let me know and I'll fix it. Any dodgy grammar is completely blamed on me being Northern and typing like I speak. My knowledge of computers is pretty much limited to an Advanced certificate in Excel so yeah, there's that (read as: I made up shit as I went along). I googled far too much to list it here, if I'm to play the honest game.

There's some lines in here that are (and have being lovingly used) from Sherlock BBC, Sherlock 1 2 and some others that I cannot remember and I really should've wrote this author's note as I was writing and not at the end. Yay to you if you found those Easter Eggs tho! Pretty much, if it looks familiar, it's not mine and I'm not saying it is.

"The first thing in the human personality that dissolves in alcohol is dignity." -Author Unknown.

"Don't trust a brilliant idea unless it survives the hangover." - Jimmy Breslin.

"First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you." - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

"I'm not an alcoholic. Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm a drunk. We go to parties." - Author Unknown

JARVIS directives were given life by the author, Isaac Asimov. I merely appropriated them.

The letters to Jarvis were inspired by Blue Lips, Blue Veins by the amazing romanoff. Go give that girl some love because she's, frankly, amazing.

Title for this fic, and the (soon to be series - oh yes, there will be more, because, c'mon, Tony Stark is life) comes from Marina and the Diamonds "Mowgli's Road". Funnily enough, there's an amazing Tony Stark fanvid to this song on YouTube (end URL number is uZlCFTm8ynU) that I may, or may not have, played repeatedly whilst writing this.

So this seems to be the thing, but I have a tumblr. The name's "funeralshenanigans". I mostly just reblog pictures of RDJ, because he's pretty. Come say hi!


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